


Phoenix Burning

by Lorde_Shadowz



Series: Phoenix Chronicles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus Harry Potter, Gen, Healer Harry Potter, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcrux Hunting, Implied/Referenced Torture, Magical Bond, Mentorish Severus Snape, Not snarry, Powerful Harry Potter, Powerful Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorde_Shadowz/pseuds/Lorde_Shadowz
Summary: Harry's new animagus form comes with new and unexpected powers, powers that will shake the wizarding world to its very core and cause a great deal of trouble for him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape
Series: Phoenix Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825435
Comments: 35
Kudos: 231





	1. A Forest Flight

Harry Potter was flying. That, in itself, wasn't unusual; the boy was so adept on a broom that several professional Quiddich teams were considering courting him, if he survived the month. No, what was unusual was that he wasn't on a broom.  
  
It was the first time he was trying out his animagus form outside the Rooms of Requirement, and while the Forbidden Forest wouldn't have been his first choice, he couldn't risk being seen. He wanted to keep this one thing for himself, and for the memory of his dogfather Sirius, and the reporters would never let him alone again once this was discovered. Not that they let him alone much as it was. And while a normal animagus like a mouse or a dog wouldn't be too hard to hide, his particular form was...rather exotic. There would definitely be inquiries if a rare, exotic tropical breed of phœnix were to show up at the exact same time that Harry Potter was missing from his dorm, particularly as said phœnix had green eyes and a patch of pale gold feathers in the exact shape of his famous scar.  
  
Besides, it had to be admitted that the Forest was beautiful...when you weren't tracking injured unicorns, running from acromantula, or trying to fend off a werewolf while helping a convicted murderer escape. It was rather peaceful, even. Harry should have known it was too good to last.  
  
Harry had been thinking that he'd never felt so free. It was liberating to not have to worry about staying on a broom, and the cool, spicy night air fluffed up his pale feathers and brushed lightly over his wings as he soared. Daredevil, impossible dives were easy for him now, and as a phœnix, not even an acromantula would dare attack him, not that it could even if it tried. When he grew tired of flying, he practiced flashing from place to place, here and gone in a burst of unearthly blue fire.  
  
He had just decided to perch and catch his breath when something crashed in the underbrush, and he launched himself off the branch with a startled squawk and landed, ruffled, a few feet away. When the sound was not repeated, his natural curiosity took over and he lifted off again and flew to where the disturbance had originated, landing on a springy branch. A dark shape lay motionless in the dappled shadows, his pale mask showing corpse-white in a band of moonlight. A Death Eater. Harry might have been afraid, except that the Death Eater's robes were plastered to his body with something dark and wet, and his ebony wand lay nearby, snapped; this Death Eater would never hurt anyone again. Harry wondered who it was and hoped vaguely that it was Bellatrix.  
  
Then a rush of morbid fascination overtook him, and he landed noiselessly in the wet leaf mould, changing back almost before his feet hit the ground. Hesitant, ready to run if the Death Eater got up, despite subconsciously knowing he couldn't be a threat, he walked up to the man and knelt, sliding a thin finger under the mask. Then he yanked it off, harder than was probably necessary. And then he stopped dead, the black velvet cord of the mask still wrapped around his fingers. It was Professor Snape.  
  
Harry was paralyzed. He had known for a long time in a rather vague and intellectual way that Snape was a Death Eater and Dumbledore's pet spy for the Light, but to see him like this, dressed in full Death Eater paraphernalia and soaked in blood made it suddenly real.  
  
Which was why he was still kneeling there, the skull mask dangling from his fingers, when Professor Snape's eyes drifted open. Harry flinched backwards, but Snape was too out of it to notice.  
  
"Lily?" he rasped, clouded dark gaze catching Harry's emerald one.  
  
Harry had a moment to think 'What the Hell- he thinks I'm my mom!?' before the Potions professor coughed up a pool of blood and became suddenly lucid.  
  
"Get...Dumbledore." The man gasped, seizing the front of his robes in a desperate grip, his whole body shuddering with the effort. "He'll want a report...attack on Hogsmeade...must warn him...Voldemort knows my- everything...  
  
"Dumbledore's at the Ministry." Harry responded, close to panicking, "And we need to get you to a mediwitch."  
  
"No...time..." Snape gasped. "Too late for me...floo the Headmaster...maybe Aberforth..."  
  
Harry was trying desperately to think. He could fetch Dumbledore in a minute by flaming to him, but that would necessitate reveiling his illegal animagus form and the fact that he had been out after curfew in the most dangerous part of the grounds, and the explanations would take too long; Snape might even be attacked by something from the Forest of he didn't die of his injuries. Same went for flaming to Madame Pomphrey. He couldn't get Snape to Hogwarts in time to save him, unless he flamed, and for all he knew, phœnix teleportation could exacerbate his condition. And every second he deliberated Professor Snape was loosing more blood.  
  
He had always hated Snape, but he didn't want him dead, and he knew that after all the people he'd seen die, he'd never forgive himself if he didn't save him. Which meant that since he was hopeless at any healing spell stronger than a 'episkey', he would have to go to Madame Pomphrey. Maybe her Healer's Oath would cover his secret, or maybe he could get her to swear an Unbreakable Vow.  
  
And so he did something so utterly Gryffindorish that it probably could have won him the house cup, if there was a house cup for stupidity*. He shoved his wand into Snape's hand with a quick "Here, I'm getting Madame Pomphrey," transformed, and flashed to the hospital wing in a glory of blue fire.  
  
Pristine white walls and rows of mahogany cupboards swam into view amid pale yellow afterimages as Harry materialized, dropped to the floor, and transformed. The hospital wing was nearly deserted, and lit only by shafts of moonlight spilling out across the floor. Harry wasted no time.  
  
"Madame Pomphrey!" He called anxiously, turning on the spot. "Madame Pomphrey, Ma'am?"  
  
"She went out."  
  
Harry whirled around, to see a Hufflepuff firstie lying on a cot in an overlooked alcove, half asleep amid a wreakage of chocolate frog wrappers and textbooks. "When will she be back?" He snapped, nearly panicking with worry.  
  
"Dunno," responded the girl drowsily. "She said - Oh, yes. 'Fessor Snape wasn't here to brew her skêle-gro, so she had to go buy some." The girl paused at this juncture to show off her boneless wrist like a spoil of war, all the while chattering nonstop- apparently she'd gotten it in DADA, when a Ravenclaw had mispronounced a blocking hex- but Harry had already turned away and was rummaging through the cupboards more or less at random, trying to remember anything he might have read or heard about healing.  
  
Harry, as was often the case, no longer had anyone to go to. Madame Pomphrey was out and he couldn't wait for her, and the only ones besides the mediwitch with any kind of healing expertise were Professor Snape himself and the Herbology professor, Professor Sprout, who wouldn't be available this late at night and couldn't heal anything worse than a scraped knee anyway. Some of the 7th year Ravenclaws took basic healing as an elective, but even if he managed to break into the Ravenclaw Common Room, he doubted any of them would or could break multiple school rules to help the greasy bat of the dungeons. So Harry would have to save Snape himself. Seriously, would it hurt to have help once in a while? What was he - fate's squeaky toy?  
  
Still, Harry had been in the hospital wing often enough to have picked up a few tips, and before a minute had passed he had ripped the pillowcase off a hospital wing pillow and shoved a bundle of bandages, several blood replenishers, a few phials of daffodil-yellow anticrucitus, and an unlabeled bottle of a thin, pale blue substance, smelling of cloves and lotus blossoms, that he knew without looking to be Wizarding painkiller, having had to take it often enough himself.  
  
Ignoring the startled exclamations of the Hufflepuff girl, he closed the cabinets as fast as he could without slamming them, and raced for the door. Halfway there, he realized he had no time to run through all of Hogwarts, or to dodge Filch. He would have to flash. In front of the firstie, who was still trying to prevent him from 'stealing from the hospital wing.' In front of a firstie who would doubtless have spread the story all over Hogwarts by noon the following day, and sent a letter to the Prophet the next. And he didn't have a wand, as he'd given it to Snape in the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Praying it would work, Harry sent a weak wandless 'Obliviate' at the Hufflepuff before transforming and vanishing with his bundle in a spray of blue sparks.  
  
Madame Pomphrey arrived moments later, but by then the sparks had winked out and the Hufflepuff with the boneless wrist was curled up in a nest of blankets, sniffling and fast asleep amid her textbooks.  
  
And if said Hufflepuff dreamed of heros and birds made of fire, or if a few potions turned up missing, no one ever knew.  
  
Harry materialized in mid air, a few sparks skittering around him like ghostly fireflies, and landed heavily next to Professor Snape, still clutching his bundle tightly.  
  
Snape did not look well. He was already unconscious, and the only sign that he was even still alive at all was the thread of blood trickling ceaselessly from the corner of his mouth, and the jerky rise and fall of his chest.  
  
Harry rummaged blindly in his pillowcase, trying to find the bottles of blood replenisher. His fingers brushed against cool glass, rough cork, but when he drew out the bottle, it was anticrucitus. He didn't have time for this! And then, as if in a dream, he could hear Ron's voice ringing in his ears: "Are you a wizard or not?"  
  
Grabbing his wand from where it lay centimeters from Snape's nerveless fingers, he shouted "'Acio' blood replenishers!" and three bottles flew into his lap. Harry snatched one of them and yanked the cork out with his teeth, then laid aside the other two and knelt by Snape, pressing the cool rim of the bottle against his lips and muttering 'Lumos' around the cork in his mouth.  
  
In the sudden wandlight, Snape shuddered and then swallowed obediently, glassy black eyes half open and fixed on nothing. Then his head fell backwards onto the bloodied leaves again.  
  
Harry had put off assessing the damage for as long as he could. He had to see Snape's injuries at some point, before he could even begin to try to heal him. So, with shaking hands, Harry conjured a knife and sliced away Snape's Death Eater garments, and the teaching robes beneath them, and adjusted his wandlight to have a look. The damage was sickening. Thousands of little cuts, blistering burns from scorching hexes, and other wounds, obviously caused by dark or even illegal magic scored his skin, and his stomach has been slashed so deep that his viscera gleamed wetly in the moonlight. There was no way a few blood replenishers and some painkiller would be able to heal damage of this magnitude; even St. Mungo's would probably be at an impasse.  
  
Harry swallowed down his nausea, trying to think. There had to be something he could do. He couldn't just sit here watching Snape die. And then the answer came as hard as if he'd been pole-axed.  
  
[Flashback]  
  
The Chamber was enormous, flooded with faint olive green light, like an undersea grotto. Beyond the lolling head of the basilisk, its blinded eyes still leaking deep red blood, ornate columns stretched into the distance, the cold, accusing eyes of the carven snakes glinting amber and emerald. Nearby, on the chamber floor, the engraved Sword of Gryffindor caught the light, egg-sized rubies glowing red as the viscous blood smudgeing its flawless blade and caking the sand on which it lay, while further on, Ginny's motionless body lay in crumpled against a sculpted wolf. The air was musty with the dust of centuries, permeated by the scent of reptiles and blood, and the cucumbery odor of pit vipers.  
  
Harry was slumped against the wall next to the monkey-faced statue of Salazar Slytherin, watching as the world distorted and fell away in patches, blinded with unbearable pain. Fawkes was pressed up against his side, glowing warmth alleviating just a little of the agony pulsating from his envenomed forearm, and he was crying. Nearby, Tom Riddle was propped languidly against the wall, tapping impeccable fingernails against his folded arms, watching Harry die.  
  
"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."  
  
The world swam in and out of focus.  
  
"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry. So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry… She bought you twelve years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…"  
  
But the pain was no longer overwhelming, and Harry raised his head, lifted a trembling hand to stroke the phœnix...  
  
"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him — I said, get away —" He shot a curse like a gunshot, and Fawkes swooped away with a squawk that might have been triumphant or possibly just startled, winging his way among the sculpted columns.  
  
Riddle was still in shock. "Phoenix tears…" said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot…"  
  
Harry still remembered the frustration on the 16 year old Riddle's face as he remembered the power of phœnix tears, and he still remembered the cool, healing droplets on his skin. And he knew exactly what to do. And in a moment, he had changed into his phœnix form and began to cry pearly tears onto the myriad little cuts and burns pitting Snape's chest.  
  
It wasn't working. Oh, to be sure, the little cuts and burns were healed courtesy of Harry's efforts, but except for a little curling at the edges, the enormous gash that sliced into Snape's vitals wasn't healing, and the man's breathing was growing increasingly labored, so much that at times, Harry thought it had stopped.  
  
Harry, frankly, was about to give it up. It wasn't as if Snape had ever done anything for him, and he'd tried his best. Hell, he'd done more than anyone else he could name, and it wasn't really his responsibility, to act the Healer for Dumbledore's pet Death Eater. He wasn't actually that happy with Dumbledore, either.  
  
But something in Snape's face made him keep going- he knew that his 'saving people thing' would never let him give up while there was still the slightest chance. He pushed back the tiny voice in his mind that said that his 'saving people thing' had gotten Sirius killed, and focused on the dying man again. Not that that improved his mood. What could he possibly access that was more potent than phœnix tears?  
  
And that was when some hidden phœnix instinct reared it's head, and he knew what to do. He burned.  
  
Azure flames shot into the sky twenty feet in height, enveloping them in fire. Luminescent blue lapped at Snape's skin, scorching his robes away, cauterizing and healing his wounds, leaving pale unblemished skin. And Harry began to sing, an ancient phœnix melody rebounding from the rocks, echoing into the treeline, powerful and pure and tingling with Old Magic.  
  
Snape writhed as the flames licked his skin, silent tears sliding down his cheeks, sizzling and burning off into streaks of salt. Harry's human mind registered fear and concern, even as his whole body was shuddering with agony, but the part of him that was a phœnix embraced the cleansing fire, knowing this was Right, knowing that if they survived this trial by fire everything would be ok.  
  
Gradually, through a haze, as his scar was beginning to throb agonizingly, he became aware that there were no more wounds to heal, but the magic flames were still burning, scorching away the residue of dark magic clinging to the Potions Master, destroying compulsions and curses so long embedded in the man's mind that he had forgotten when and how he had been effected.  
  
Then the healing fire attacked the Dark Mark, and Snape clutched his forearm with a moan of pain as the Mark turned a protesting red and vanished entirely. Snape slumped back unconscious from excessive pain, his body still too weak. And still the flames burned.  
  
At this point Harry could no longer think. Pain, originating from his scar, had taken over his whole body, and his head felt as though Gawp had taken a bludgeon to it. It hurt so, so much, worse even than Voldemort's crucitus, or the basilisk's bite. And then everything went black.


	2. Trial by Fire

Severus Snape had not been expecting to be Called. It had been a very long day, and all he wanted to do was curl up with a potions periodical and maybe a brandy or three and try to forget the nice large stack of essays and even larger stack of exams that he had to grade, and the Wizarding etiquette club he had to supervise, and the Quiddich practices he had to referee, and the Hogsmeade weekend he had to chaperone.  
  
So he was understandibly frustrated when right in the middle of supper, with a piece of venison halfway to his lips, his left forearm began to throb agonizingly. But you didn't just refuse a summons. So Snape gave a mental sigh, nodded to the headmaster, and stalked out of the Great Hall to the Apparition Point.  
  
Riddle Manor was the Dark Lord's headquarters and main stronghold, and it certainly looked the part. Large and gloomy, it brooded over an equally foreboding landscape, a black fence and twisted wrought-iron gates inclosing grounds overhung with cypresses, a weed-grown courtyard, and a few flowerbeds supporting a wilting asphodel here, or a poppy there, all gone-to-seed. As Snape approached, he could make out the great mahogany doors, carved with dark creatures and shamelessly dressed young women. The only thing missing were skulls mounted on the fence posts, although Snape supposed there wasn't exactly a Hogwarts course called Evil Overlords 101.  
  
The inside of the house was exactly what one might expect, and it always made Snape shiver, no matter how many times he had been here before. The wallpaper has probably once shown a floral design, but the house had been left empty for so long that the flowers had faded to blotches of watery blue and green, speckled with mold and a dark red substance which most likely was not paint. Shabby carpets stretched across the floor, worn through in places, as if the Dark Lord had never thought of casting a 'reparo'. Torches sputtered on the walls, shrinking in fear as Snape swept by, but the old muggle fixtures had never been taken out, and as Snape stalked through the sitting room, the old chandeliers trembled, crystal chiming like chips of ice in a glass at his footsteps.  
  
Snape suppressed a shudder and entered what had once been a ballroom, joining the assembly of Death Eaters congregated around their master. The Dark Lord was already speaking.  
  
"...at Hogsmeade, and we will attack. The Ministry will not be able to to scramble Aurors there in time- Avery, I believe, has paid Scrimgeour off well, and Amelia is...compromised. And I have other plans for when Dumbledore's order shows up. Ahh, Severus."  
  
Snape flinched. "Yes my lord?"  
  
The Dark Lord was smiling, and that never boded well. "I need you to answer...a few questions."  
  
"Yes my-" Snape never finished.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
Snape stumbled under the onslaught of the torture curse, ever muscle in his body screaming. "My lord-"  
  
"You're late." The Dark Lord said very quietly. "What is more, I have been having doubts about your loyalty for a very long time. So what is this about you teaching the Potter boy occlumency?"  
  
Snape was trembling now. He would have to tread very carefully, and the gods help him if he slipped. Damn the boy! "My lord, I had to follow Dumbledore's orders or he would suspect me. I did not actually teach the boy anything," not for lack of trying, thought Snape bitterly, "I merely broke into his mind repeatedly."  
  
"So perhaps you would tell me what you found?" the Dark Lord said silkily  
  
"Mostly pitiful teenage problems and quibbles," Snape responded, with his best occlumency shields in place. "The girl he was dating, for instance, and his talks with his dear, departed god mutt."  
  
"I do not think it is advisable to lie to me," the Dark Lord said pleasantly. Snape did not like the look on his face. "Especially since I'll get it from you anyway." He made a quick, nearly imperceptible motion, and Snape found himself in a wandless 'petrificatus totalis'  
  
The Dark Lord paused, then drew a small sealed bottle from his sleeve, and turned it, letting the light shine through the colorless substance. "Your own work, I believe."  
  
Snape could only follow him with his eyes as the Dark Lord paced the room, spidery fingers tapping the bottle of veritaserum. At length, he swept to a stop in front of Snape and uncorked the bottle. Then he wrenched Snape's mouth open and poured the entire bottle down his throat, releasing the bind as he did so. It was a few moments before it took effect. Then the world grew misty and unfocused, and he heard the Dark Lord's voice, blisteringly loud, by his ear. "Where do your loyalties lie?"  
  
"Lilly." Snape said, wondering why he felt like it was a bad idea to talk. Nothing could hurt him, could it?  
  
"Who?" The Dark Lord sounded genuinely curious.  
  
"Lilly Potter nee Evans." Snape replied dully.  
  
The Dark Lord made an odd sound, which might have been a chuckle, if he were capable of positive emotion. "Which side are you on, mine or Dumbledore's?"  
  
"Neither."  
  
"Explain what you mean by that." The Dark Lord's voice had taken on a curious timbre. Something deep within Snape was panicking, but the potion induced haze prevented the fear from reaching his conscious mind. "Dumbledore is a controlling old bastard who uses his followers and consigns them to Azkaban when they are no longer useful. You are insane, your politics are sickening and your tactics will get us killed. "  
  
"So who do you follow." The Dark Lord hissed.  
  
"Potter," was Snape's quiet response.  
  
"Why! WHAT CAN POTTER OFFER YOU THAT I CAN'T!"  
  
"Potter has never offered me anything. He's never took anything either. And he's Lilly's."  
  
The Dark Lord's anger was palpable, flowing off of him in waves, washing over his followers like boiling water. Had Snape been in command of his faculties, he would have cringed. As it was, he only lay there, struggling against the mist clouding his brain.  
  
"What do you know about the prophecy?"  
  
The part of Snape's brain that was yet unaffected tried to fling up occlumency shields, tried to fight the drug with all his strength. His lips betrayed him. "It was delivered by a True Seer to Albus Dumbledore at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade-"  
  
"Hurry up!" the Dark Lord snarled. "Did you report it to me accurately and completely sixteen years ago?"  
  
Snape struggled desperately. "No," he rasped at last.  
  
"Why not?" The Dark Lord's aura was swirling out of control, shaking the windows and banging the cherry wood shutters. Several of his Death Eaters were edging away, unnoticed. They all knew that when the Dark Lord got angry, wizards started dying.  
  
"First because I had heard it incompletely, and second because Dumbledore did not allow me to."  
  
The Dark Lord made an incoherent, bestial noise. "Tell it to me in full."  
  
Snape shuddered, biting his tongue until thick dark blood seeped from his mouth. It was no use. "The one...with the power...to defeat the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him...born as the seventh month dies..." That was the limit to what Snape had first told him, and he struggled bitterly a few more seconds before something inside him snapped and he continued. "...and the Dark Lord...will mark him...as...his equal-"  
  
Here the Dark Lord snarled.  
  
"-but he shall...have power the Dark Lord...knows not, and either...must die...at the hand of the other...for neither...can live...while...the other...survives. The one...with the power...to defeat...the Dark...Lord...shall...be...born...as...the...sseventh...month...dies." Here Snape broke off wretching from the attempt to resist the veritaserum overdose.  
  
If the Dark Lord had been angry before, he was now incandescent with rage. His burst of accidental magic pulverized the throne-like chair upon which he was wont to sit, and every single window exploded. The Death Eaters, except for Bellatrix and a few others, had already departed, perfering to grovel and appoligize later rather than to stay and risk death.  
  
But when the Dark Lord turned back around, he had a terrible, unhinged smile on his face. Snape, almost sobered by fear, attempted to rise, reaching for his wand. He was still, however, only half aware of his surroundings, and by the time he had languidly drawn his wand, the Dark Lord had already pulled it from his hand and snapped it. Snape might have been able to cast something wandlessly, but he was still too disoriented, and could only kneel there, expecting a crucitus at the very least. Instead the Dark Lord only leaned back and called lazily: "Bellatrix...I think I owe you a birthday present."  
  
It was four hours before Bellatrix grew tired of her new toy, and another before Snape could move sufficiently to take the phial of painkilling potion hidden in has lapel.  
  
Snape had no time or energy for subtlety. He had to get out and he had to get out now, before Bella dearest decided to put him out of his misery. When she next came, bending over him to check his pulse, or perhaps to try out her new knives, he struck her in the back of the head, desperation lending him strength. She fell soundlessly, and he grabbed her wand and his broken one, smashed the window in, and climbed out, glad for the painkillers when he saw the red smears he left behind.  
  
He had no strength left to apparate, nor would the wards let him, but the anti-portkey ward was only around the house proper, and as soon as he was outside, he murmured the password for his emergency portkey "Pop Tarts" (seriously, Dumbledore?) and vanished.  
  
Taking the portkey in his condition was a mistake. The whirling motion aggravated the damage done to his body, and the aching in his head was so severe he could barely swallow his nausea. And because of some intricacy ofthe Hogwarts wards, he was on the portkey landing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. He managed three steps before he collapsed miserably.  
  
Someone had removed his mask. He opened his eyes, only to look into a pair the color of emeralds, the color of avada kadavras. "Lilly?" he breathed. Was this it then? He shifted to get a better look, and the sudden starburst of pain sobered him.  
  
It was Potter. Not Lilly. He was too tired even to take off points from Gryffindor because the boy was out after curfew in a restricted area. "Get...Dumbledore." he gasped, seizing the front of the boy's robes in a desperate grip, his whole body shuddering with the effort. "He'll want a report...attack on Hogsmeade...must warn him...Voldemort knows my- everything..."  
  
"Dumbledore's at the Ministry." Potter responded, wide eyed and hyperventilating, "And we need to get you to a mediwitch."  
  
"No...time..." Snape gasped. Was the boy deaf or stupid? He had to give his report now, he was probably going to die before he could get to a healer! "Too late for me...floo the Headmaster...maybe Aberforth..."  
  
The boy stared at him again, as if he were speaking Mermish. What did he not understand about "Floo the headmaster"? He glanced around as if expecting someone to pop out of the bushes and explain what was going on, and then all of a sudden he shoved his wand into Snape's hand. Before Snape could ask him what the Hell He was doing, he said rapidly, "Here, I'm getting Madame Pomphrey," as if Snape could stop him, knelt, and melted into the form of a white and gold phœnix, with green eyes, purple tail feathers, and his scar denoted with a zigzag of bronze on his head.  
  
The phœnix trilled and then vanished in a burst of blue flame, and at this point Snape fainted.  
  
The rest of the night was lost in a feverish mist. Once or twice Snape felt the rim of a potion bottle pressed to his lips, tasted a potion that he knew he ought to have been able to identify. He felt small hands trying to bandage his cuts and a soothing liquid soaking into his wounds.  
  
And then, just when he felt as if he about to cross over, a burning sensation began to dance across his skin. It was agonizing but oddly comforting, and as it passed over his skin, the wounds stopped hurting even as the burning increased. Silent tears of pain sizzled down his cheeks, and he writhed and twisted.  
  
And then it had stopped hurting, or perhaps it had only gone numb, and Snape opened his eyes to see a phœnix perched on his chest, and blue flames wreathing around him. As he stared at the bird in awe it warbled at him, and the flames rose higher, like some supernatural funeral pyre, and all at once his Dark Mark burst into excruciating pain. And suddenly it was simply too much for him, after his ordeals, and the world faded into exploding stars shimmering in his vision, and then...nothing.


	3. Adjusting

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. The dull, constant ache in his scar that had accompanied him as long as he could remember was gone, and he felt lighter- happier than he had been since Sirius's death. What was more, he no longer felt the need to hate himself for being happy without Sirius there to share it with him. Harry opened his eyes lazily, and memories came rushing back. And he realized that he was slumped over an unconscious Severus Snape.

Harry hurriedly sat back in his heels, to take stock of the situation. Snape, aside from having his robes scorched into cinders by the magic flames (Harry blushed and, picking up his miraculously unharmed wand, transfigured the neglected pillowcase into a rough cloak, glad for once that Hermione had talked him into revising for Transfiguration midterms early) had been completely healed, and even looked better than Harry has ever seen him. He looked almost handsome, now that his slender and vampiricly pale body has filled out a little and lost that sallow, unhealthy look, and his long black hair was soft and no longer greasy. Of course, his nose was still as large as ever, but then, without it he wouldn't be recognizable as Snape.

Harry glanced at the look of peace on his sleeping face and decided to wait a few more minutes before waking him- it was still very early in the morning, so early that the stars were still up. And if Harry had learned anything at all from his years at Hogwarts, letting a sleeping cerberus lie was near the top of the list.

The clearing had been burnt badly during the involuntary ritual, such that the moist leaves were still smoking, and a smell of char and Ancient Magic filled the air. A single, glossy, pale-gold feather lay near where he sat, one of his, while further on, Snape's Death Eater mask lay in a partially melted lump. Most of the potion bottles had cracked from the excessive heat, including the unopened anticrucitus- Harry winced at the waste. There was little else to give testimony of the ordeal the previous night, however, as neither Snape nor Harry had had much with them, although Harry found Snape's broken wand in a patch of charbroiled mushrooms, as well as another, which looked to be Bellatrix's. Hers was a little warped and blackened by the fire; Harry could only assume that the phœnix magic hadn't liked the dark residue on it.

It was at this point that Harry reluctantly made the decision to wake Snape up- the first watery yellow sunbeams were piercing the Forest canopy, and he dared not stay out too much longer. He doubted that his dorm mates could be prevailed upon to keep his midnight excursion secret. He knelt next to Snape and was about to shake him when he accidentally nudged the man with his knee and Snape shuddered and exploded awake, long-lashed dark eyes wide and confused, one slender hand fumbling for his wand.

"Shh, sir, it's ok," Harry said gently, worried at the continued confusion in Snape's eyes. Visions of Lockhart fluttered through his brain- what if the phœnix magic had wiped his mind during the healing process? Or what if it could only heal the body, and Snape's psyche had been permanently damaged by Voldemort or his followers? Then Snape drew a sharp breath.

"Potter?" He still looked confused, but there was a note of anger in his voice, and what might have been awe.

"Umm, yeah? How are you feeling, sir?" Best to be polite. Snape would probably give him a royal chewing-out for being a stupid Gryffindor and being out after curfew in the Forbidden Forest, but he didn't want to make it any worse for himself than it already would be.

"You were a phœnix." It was not a question.

"Yes sir..."

"And you used the rite of Flamma Aeterna."

"Is that what it's called?"

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. "Magical illegal animagus form aside, do you have any idea of what you did?"

Harry shrugged. "Umm, I just didn't want you to die."

Snape shook his head. "You stupid, idiotic, self-sacrificing Gryffindor. You could have gotten yourself killed! If you had had any intent except to heal me for healing's sake, or if the Ancient Magic had pronounced me too corrupted to heal..." he broke off. "I...admit...that I am grateful," it sounded rather painful to admit, "but I'd better not catch you trying anything like that again."

Harry was staring at Snape, a little pop-eyed. While the man sounded angry, there was none of the malice with which he normally addressed Harry, albeit he was still a little acerbic.

"Also, Potter,"

Harry snapped out of his daze. _Here it comes_ , he thought. "Yes professor?"

"You might want to think about performing a glamour."

"Huh?"

"Eloquent as always, Potter. What I mean to say is that not only does your scar appear to have finally healed," Harry yelped and reached up to touch it, "but you have grown considerably, and your hair is too long to be a rat's nest. I suspect it has something to do with the ritual."

Harry blinked a few times in rapid succession. "I...uh...don't know any glamours," he said finally, still reeling from what Snape had just said.

Snape sighed again. "Merlin save us." He frowned on seeing his own snapped wand, then picked up the scorched one and cast an experimental 'lumos'. It glowed obediently. Then, before Harry realized what he was doing, Snape flicked the wand at him and intoned "Prior forma muta."

Harry squeaked as he felt a tingle in his forehead, followed by a crawling sensation all over his skin. Snape, however, seemed satisfied. "You look enough like you did before to pass, although I am not a glamour expert," he said thoughtfully.

Harry was too startled by this new, helpful Snape to do anything more than stammer a thank you.

Snape smirked. "I did not, however, say that the glamour was permanent," he said after a moment. "I suggest researching another which cannot be broken by a strong 'finite incantem'."

"St-still, thank you," Harry was still trying to come to terms with the new developments.

Snape had, by this time, gotten to his feet, the transfigured cloak still wrapped tightly around himself, as his own robes were too burned even for a reparo'. Now he pocketed the broken wand, and the borrowed one, and then led Harry back to the castle.

They had just walked in the Entrance Hall, and were about to separate, when Snape stopped. "Harry," he began, and the boy, totally gobsmacked, wondered briefly if he had been completely healed, "I...do owe you thanks. And an apology for the way I have treated you for so long, although I do suspect I may have been acting under a mild compulsion."

"A compulsion?" Harry asked after a moment.

"The Dark Mark had a number of nasty spells on it, as I recall, among them an aggression enhancement ward. We were under vows of silence not to speak of its composition, although since I'm telling you, the vows must have died with the Mark. Still, I acted...unforgivibly."

"I...it's ok sir," said Harry. It wasn't, really, but Harry was willing to forgive, if not forget. And if the professor had actually had a compulsion on him, it wouldn't really be his fault, and he shouldn't be blamed.

A rare smile flickered across Snape's lips, momentarily flashing magically straightened and whitened teeth, another side effect of the cleansing. "It astonishes me how much you are like your mother," he said quietly. "I don't know anyone else who would be willing to save someone they hated so much." He shook his head. "However, if you tell anyone I said that, I will personally use you for potion ingredients."

"Understood, sir." Harry said after a moment, a surprising ember of warmth bubbling up inside him. No one has ever told him what his mother was like, even Sirius, except to say that Harry had her eyes, or to expound upon her Charms ability.

"Oh, and Potter?" Snape said, black eyes sparkling with a little-seen hint of mischief, as they parted ways, Snape to his dungeons and Harry to the Gryffindor Tower. "Ten points from Gryffindor for being out in the Forbidden Forest after curfew."

Harry was still spluttering all the way to the Fat Lady, and so didn't hear Snape's murmured addition: "...and a hundred points to Gryffindor for quick thinking and selflessness."

Now, despite the few hours Harry had slept after the cleansing ritual, Harry was exhausted. He barely managed to stumble to the entrance to the Common Room, and when he got there, he realized he had forgotten the password. The Fat Lady grumbled unhappily; not only was he a mess (dusted with ash and splattered with mud, a dead leaf clinging persistently to his cheek) but he'd woken her up for nothing!

Harry simply stared at her for half a minute, and then finally said "Pride of Gryffindor". She swung inward sulkily, sniffing at his midnight escapades. Why couldn't the kids just stay put after curfew?

Harry ignored her. All he wanted to do was shower and try to get some sleep before classes in the morning.

The Common Room was totally empty, this early in the morning; even the fire had died down to mere embers, faintly illuminating the gold embroidery of the Gryffindor pennants. Harry hurried through it, glad there was no one to ask awkward questions, and crept up the stairs to his form. No one was up there either; only Seamus twitched in his sleep as Harry unlatched his dragonhide trunk and pulled out a clean, fresh set of robes.

After a hot shower had loostened all the grit and washed it away, Harry lay down with a textbook, figuring he might as well study, as there wouldn't be much time for sleep. It felt like only moments later that Neville was shaking him; he'd fallen asleep on top of his textbook.

Realizing that he'd never get through the day like this, he took a pepper-up potion he'd saved from the last batch he'd done in Potions (adequate, now that Slughorn was teaching Potions) and gulped it. Then he followed his dorm mates down to the Common Room, where Ron was waiting for him with Hermione, to go to breakfast in the Great Hall.

They were assaulted almost as soon as they had left Gryffindor Tower.

"Well, well, well, Scarhead, haven't got rid of the Weasel and the Mudblood leech yet, I see."

"Good morning to you too, Malfoy," Harry responded, his good mood utterly shot.

"It's not a good morning when I have to talk to you," said Malfoy, with the air of one much amused at his own wit.

Ron was fuming. Hermione might have joined the conversation, but she was busy restraining Ron to really make a good response, so it was left to Harry. Harry was about to say something unprintable, when he imagined the look on Draco's face if he knew what Harry had been up to the previous night, and be cracked a smile instead. "Then why are you still around talking to me if I'm so offensive? And why were you here in the first place? Are you sure you're not stalking me?"

Malfoy was spluttering incoherently, while Ron laughed and Hermione giggled into her hand. Finally he said rather dumbly, "Your little mind cannot comprehend my habits."

"That's because your habits are incomprehensible," Hermione commented.

"Yeah," Harry chipped in. "At least I don't sleep with a stuffed dragon."

It was pure conjecture, based off a derogatory comment Daphne Greengrass had made in Harry's vicinity half a year ago, but apparently it struck a nerve, because Draco snarled "Sod off, Potter!" and flicking his wand, shouted "furniculus!"

Harry responded with a lightening fast "protego", pushing his friends behind him. And at that moment, a dark robed figure loomed over them. Snape. Harry tensed. This could either go in his favor, or it could go horribly wrong. As Draco was Snape's godson, Harry did not expect a positive outcome, at least for the Gryffindors.

So he was pleasantly surprised when Snape spoke. "Twenty points from Slytherin for hexing a classmate in the halls, Malfoy. You ought to know better- that's Gryffindor behaviour."

"Harry hexed me first!" Draco retorted.

"Give me your wand." Snape held out a slender hand.

Draco twisted the wand nervously in both hands, refusing to hand it over.

"Give it here, I'm not confiscating or snapping it, I'm simply checking it."

"Check Potter's!" Draco said petulently.

"Potter, hand me your wand."

Harry gave Snape his wand without a murmur; if Snape had meant him harm, he would have done it in the forest, where a mangled body could easily be the work of acromantula. Snape performed "priori incantem", and smirked: the wand showed a "protego", "lumos", an "acio", and a spell that they had practiced the day before in Transfiguration, among others.

"And another twenty points from Slytherin for lying to a teacher," he said with vicious pleasure. Ron's mouth was gaping as though to catch flies, and even Harry was startled.

"My father will hear about this!" threatened Malfoy.

Snape sighed. "Let him. Taking points for transgressions is not against school policy."

"He knows things that the aurors would love to-" began Malfoy suggestively.

"A hundred points from Slytherin for threatening a teacher." Severus snapped. "And for the record, it's never a good idea to blackmail a Slytherin."

And with that, Snape swept away, robes sweeping regally behind him, a genuine smile curving his lips, catching Harry's eye as he turned. And he winked.

Ron was in shock. "Harry, mate, what did you do to Snape? Is he _imperiused_?" He asked finally. Hermione hit him on the back of the head for saying that, but she was just as confused and shocked.

"I'll tell you later; I had an...informative conversation." Harry replied, as they entered the Great Hall. "Meet me by the Rooms of Requirement tonight, it's a long story. I promise he's not imperiused or anything."

Hermione gave him a look, but said no more, and they all plopped down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, Ron immediately filling his plate with enough food to feed the crew of a Navy submarine for a week. Harry chewed on a piece of bacon absentmindedly, distracted with thinking about his schedule: Charms first period, and then DADA.


	4. A Much-Needed Conversation

The halls of Hogwarts were buzzing with gossip. The Gryffindors had gained 90 points overnight, and, more shocking still, Snape had taken points from his own house, and from Draco Malfoy specifically. Everyone was speculating wildly, and the prevalent opinion was that he must be imperiused. Harry knew that was not the case, but he was no less in shock- there was only one explanation for the extra points, and it was practically impossible even if Snape had changed as a result of the ritual. Not only that, but Hermione seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as to the origin of the extra points, and was subjecting him to an uncomfortably severe scrutiny.

Charms was practically a joke- Flitwick was teaching the wordless _aquamenti_ , but no one was listening, and notes, charmed paper air planes, and little crumpled balls of parchment flew about behind his back every time the diminutive teacher turned to the board.

The twins were talking about bringing in a case of butterbeer to celebrate the unlikely occurrence of Snape taking more than five points from Draco Malfoy, and, to Mcgonagall's annoyance, a spontaneous party broke out at lunch. More than one student noticed that while Snape had a rather self-satisfied smirk on his face all through lunch, the snakes were looking unusually subdued, and many of them shot their Head of House poisonous glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Harry was amused to note that Draco had the sort of blank, numb air typically observed in soldiers having completed their first battle.

Defense was the last class of the day, and the Gryffindors were just as nervous as the Slytherins as they flocked to the gloomy DADA classroom, and when Snape entered, they quieted down abruptly and without a reprimand, despite their euphoria.

Snape swept in with his usual sneer, although today it did not quite reach his eyes, and immediately began lecturing on inferi, and how to stop them with fire. About halfway through the class, when they were doing a bit of reading from the textbook, a note popped up on Harry's desk. He quickly unfolded it, and was astonished to see the spidery handwriting that had so often covered his Potions essays in the past.

* _I_ _need to talk to you. Do something to get yourself in detention with me. I promise I will not take too many points_ *

Harry frowned. Hermione hissed at him not to pass notes, and as he crumpled it up, Snape swept over.

"Since _some_ of us are more intent on passing notes than taking them, perhaps a more active demonstration is in order. Potter!"

"Yes sir?" Damn, Snape was just as scary as before the ritual. Was he acting? Harry couldn't tell.

"Up here, now- I want you to demonstrate an ' _incendio_ ' for the class."

"Yes sir," Harry got to his feet and walked to the front of the classroom, uncomfortable at all the stares. On Snape's "Well, we do not have all year, Potter," he raised his wand and blasted off a mild _iincendio_ \- tilting his wand in such a manner that he "accidentally" set the hem of Snape's robes on fire. Snape's scowl was downright terrifying.

"Glacius!" he snarled, putting out the fire. He then turned back to Harry, who was practically shaking under his ferocious look. "Detention, Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"I'm sorry, professor," said Harry, actually meaning it.

"Sit down before I take more points," Snape snapped, walking back to the board. "The counter to _incendio_ as has been demonstrated, is _glacius_ , and you should probably write that down, Mr. Potter, so you don't set your teachers on fire in the future."

Hermione's lips twitched, and Harry wondered if she was thinking of their first year, when she had set Snape on fire during the Quiddich game, under the mistaken belief that he was jinxing Harry's broom. Most of the rest of the class were wondering why Snape hadn't taken more points. Several Slytherin pure-bloods were talking in quiet tones about the imperius and Passivity Solution.

After they read to the end of the designated chapter, Snape conjured several targets, and made the class line up, in pairs of Slytherin-Gryffindor, to cast ' _incendio_ ' and ' _glacius_ ' at them in turns. Ron and Draco had to be broken up after the Slytherin punched Ron's nose.

At the end of class, when the bell chimed, Snape barked "Potter, stay after class!"

Harry, who had been stuffing his books back into his bag, raised his head. "Ok," he said, and then to Hermione and Ron, "You don't have to wait for me."

"Ok, _sir_ , Potter," Snape reprimanded without turning around.

Ron and Hermione reluctantly followed the rest of the class out. As soon as they were out the door, Snape closed it with a flick of his wand, then turned to Harry.

"Adequate, Potter," he said calmly. "A very Slytherin approach. However, I do wish you would spare my robes, considering how many you've already scorched."

"Umm, I didn't actually burn you, did I?"

"I assure you that I would have taken more than ten points for _that_ ," Snape was pacing. "Come, no doubt your friends will think that the Slytherin monster has rendered you for potion ingredients if you don't hurry up. We will talk later, preferably somewhere that can be adequately warded against eavesdropping, as some of the things I have to tell you are rather sensitive. My quarters. Tonight."

"Ok, what should I say when my friends ask about detention?"

"You will be cutting iguanas into their component parts for me," Snape replied. "Go on now. Oh, and ten points to Gryffindor for creativity."

Neither of them heard the soft gasp outside the door, as Harry packed up to go.

* * *

It in the free period between Magical History and dinner when Hermione finally confronted him. They had been finishing an Herbology essay in the library (well, at least Hermione was; Ron was reading a Quiddich magazine hidden in his textbook, and Harry was staring blankly at a piece of parchment with perhaps a single sentence on it, his quill dripping, worrying about the evening) when Hermione finally threw down a large book she'd been using for extra source material with a huff. Both boys looked up in shock; Madame Pince pursed her lips and shot a glare at all three of them.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?" Harry asked her at last.

"Nothing," she said sharply, scribbling ferociously on her essay. She stewed for another minute, and then finally snapped. "What the heck is going on between you and Snape?" She said, louder than she probably meant to. Heads started to turn in their direction.

"I...uh...what are you talking about?" Harry was avoiding her gaze.

"Yeah, mate, what are you doing going to his quarters tonight?" Ron chipped in.

"What are you doing _lying_ to us?"

Harry glanced around frantically. "Not here, I don't want to be overheard."

Hermione shoved her essay into her folder so fast it rumpled, and then began to pack up all her textbooks and all the extra library books she'd gotten out. "Then we'll go to the Rooms of Requirement. C'mon, Ron." And before either of the boys could say a word, she grabbed Ron by the wrist and Harry by the cloak and marched them to the Rooms.

The Rooms of Requirement were set up like a comfortable sitting room for that particular occasion, complete with a roaring fire, squashy armchairs, and a beautiful varnished coffee table. Harry called Dobby and asked him to bring a tray of cookies, while all the while Hermione wiggled impatiently. At last, when they were all munching on a cookie (or in Ron's case, three) Hermione said: "Alright, Harry, spill."

And Harry did. "I...I don't know where to start."

"The beginning would be great."

"Ok, I guess it started last summer. The Dursleys aren't exactly good grief councillors, and you guys weren't writing much, so I started going through Siri's old journals, in his memory sort of." There was a suspicious glossy quality to Harry's eyes.

"Oh, Harry..."

"And I found his notes on how to be an animagus."

Hermione jolted upright. "You didn't!"

"I...uh...actually did. I even brewed the animagus meditation potion on the kitchen stove with left over potion supplies when Aunt Petunia was out. I had to wait until Hogwarts to do the final transfiguration, of course, since that requires a wand, but by then I had the meditation down pat. All I had to do was the final wandwork. I just kept thinking Sirius would think it was a good prank."

"So what are you, mate?" asked Ron at the same time that Hermione asked, "What's this got to do with Snape?"

"I'm an Egyptian phœnix," Harry admitted, transforming to give them a demonstration. Hermione and Ron were suitably impressed. As well they might be! Harry was all of a foot tall, his wingspan at least a meter, with glossy pale gold flight feathers mixed with others of pure white, soft white down, and a three-foot tail of sky blue and royal purple, the place where his scar had been marked with a golden zig-zag. Green eyes like beads of jade glinted in the firelight.

"Wow. Just wow." Hermione whispered. Ron's mouth resembled a cavern.

Harry flew around a bit and then landed and transformed, long black hair falling into his eyes as he did so. He swiped it away. Why were his friends staring at him? "What?" he asked, wondering if something was on his face.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron burst out. Hermione absently told him to watch his language, still staring at Harry.

"H-Harry?" she said. "What- how?

Harry blinked back at them, then gasped, realizing too late that the animagus transformation had broken the feeble glamour Snape had put on him. "Yeah, it's me," he told them. "I was getting to that."

"You better have a damn good explanation," Ron began. It was a mark of how shocked Hermione was that she did not even think to reprimand him.

"So after I completed the transformation, " Harry went on, "I used to go flying at night in the Rooms of Requirement, 'cause I didn't want to be seen. But for the last couple of days I've been going out into the Forbidden Forest to work on my form in the real world."

Hermione muttered something about crack-brained boys going out to the most dangerous place on the grounds after curfew deserving to lose points, while Ron simply looked at him as if he were mental. Harry pretended to ignore them.

"And anyway, I was out last night when I came across Snape in the Forest, and he was hurt really badly; I think Voldemort wasn't too happy with him, as his anger had been giving me a headache all last evening. So I flashed to the Hospital Wing and grabbed some potions."

"You should have gotten Dumbledore!" Hermione told him. Harry shook his head.

"He was at the ministry. I wouldn't be able to to reach him without either asking a teacher if I could use their private floo or flashing, and in either case I'd have to explain how I am an illegal phœnix animagus and where I found Snape. What do you think the Minister for Magic would say to that?"

Hermione sighed. "I see your point, but it wasn't really thought out. You could have gotten Madame Pomphrey; her Healer's Oath would keep her from telling anyone your secret."

"She was out buying extra skêle-gro."

"And you didn't wait? It's really dangerous to try to heal severe wounds if you're not a healer."

"I couldn't wait, Snape was dying!"

Ron muttered something about the greasy git deserving it, and Hermione smacked him, rather hard. "Oh! But what if someone saw you?" she asked abruptly.

"There was a girl in the Hospital Wing, but she was asleep when I came in. I had to _obliviate_ her when I left, though."

"You could have just left the Hospital Wing and then transformed." That was Ron. "You could have messed up her brain."

"I wasn't thinking! I didn't have time for that!" Harry protested.

"How bad was it?" asked Ron curiously. "It must have been really bad for you to be worried about Snape."

"He had a bunch of little burns and cuts and he was shaking from _crucitus_ damage." Harry replied. "And he had a big gash in his stomach. I think Bellatrix had a go at him."

Ron shuddered. Hermione, however, was looking thoughtful. "You used phœnix tears, didn't you," she said finally. "No potion could fix that, and Snape looked fine today."

"Phœnix tears?" Ron asked.

"They have healing powers," Hermione told him. "Cuthburt O'Brandy has a whole treatise on phœnix magic. I would recommend it, but I know you don't read."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "I read Quiddich Through the Ages..."

Hermione sighed. "So did you use phœnix tears?" she asked.

"Well, yes and no." Harry replied.

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I tried to use phœnix tears, but some of the damage was too bad, so I set him on fire. Phœnix fire," he hastily added as Hermione blanched and Ron muttered something that might have been "way to go!" "The fire literally just burned away all his injuries. Healed everything. It also burned away his Dark Mark for some reason."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Huh. I think I read about something like that somewhere."

Ron muttered "Of course."

"Huh," Hermione said again. Then her hand suddenly flew to her mouth. "Was Snape the only one on fire? Your scar is gone, and if what I think happened..." She trailed off.

"No, I was burning too. I think. My scar was killing me, so I wasn't really that lucid."

"Oh my God, Harry!" Hermione burst out. "You did the Rite of Flamma Aeterna?! On Snape?!"

"I guess. Apparently everyone knows about it except me."

"I didn't," Ron told him.

Hermione was very pale. "I...I have to go get my copy of _Oldest Rituals_."

The book popped up on the coffee table next to the half-empty tray of cookies. Hermione giggled almost histarically. "I forgot we're in the Rooms of Requirement." She was all business the next minute, flipping through her book. " _Fama Nobis_ , _Felis Naturale_ , oh, here we are!"

" _Flamma Aeterna_ ," she read, " _is an involuntary ritual of intent. First documented by Pliny in 49 AD, the ritual occurs when a phœnix, of it's own free will and agency, induces an early Burning Day over the corpse or dying body of a virtuous man, to heal or resurrect them._ _While it is not known exactly how it works, Morgana LeFay speculated that the ritual calls upon Old Magic to judge the man, as if the man is wholly evil or corrupted, both he and the phœnix will literally burn up from within._

_"This speculation is corroborated by the story of Dr. Dee, who had a pet phœnix who was very loyal to him, even as he decended into the path of Dark Arts. One day, he remorselessly killed his wife's father, for his inheritance. His brother-in-law, enraged, slipped a little aconite into his wine. The phœnix burned over him, but (as the story goes) he was too much enthralled by the dark arts, and as he had incurred the injury by killing killed a man without remorse, both he and the phœnix died at once._

_"Another story tells of a dark lord who imperiused a phœnix to burn over his dying son. It did, but, needless to say, neither the phœnix nor the men lived._

_"The effects of this ritual are not well documented, but Merlin writes that the ritual 'Heels Wunds both ove the Bodey and the Minde, and clenses the Sole, for the Pow'r of the Fyre-bird is antithetic to Evil.' Other, more modern sources, mention that one's patronus may be inordinately strong as a result of the ritual, and may even change shape. Judah DeMothe writes that the exchange of power between phœnix and man may even create a latent mind link."_

They all sat silently together for a long time after Hermione finished. Finally Ron said what they were all thinking. "You could have died! For Snape!"

* * *

At half past eight, Harry hesitantly knocked on Snape's office door.

"Enter."

Harry did. Snape inclined his head, set down his quill so that the red ink wouldn't drip on an already liberally reddened essay. Then he drew his wand and muttered " _muffliatus_ ", following it with a few auror-leval privacy charms. Another flick, and a box full of iguana carcasses floated across to one of the stained tables, along with a few knives, as well as another box filled with dismembered ones. Snape smiled faintly.

"Come, Potter." Snape led him to a portrait of Salazar Slytherin in the back of the room, then on its demand of "Password" calmly told it "Lilypad." The portrait swung inwards, and Harry followed the professor into his private quarters.

Contrary to popular speculation, his rooms were not furnished in black and green. There _was_ a black table, but the rest of the furniture was mahogany brown, and the walls and cushions were warm shades of maroon, grey, and ochre.

"Do my rooms pass the inspection?"

Harry whirled around. Snape was watching him, and Harry blushed. Snape's typical smirk relaxed into a tiny smile.

The professor swept a heap of exams from the coffee table, then conjured a tea tray and biscuits. "I would light the fire, but the floo connection could be problematic," he said, casting a warming charm.

"Um, it's fine, sir," replied Harry, who was just beginning to realize how surreal this situation was. If, a year ago, anyone had told him he would be having tea and biscuits with the Dungeon Bat in his own private quarters, he would have had whoever it was committed to St. Mungo's.

The two of them sat down across from each other, and Harry waited for Snape to start, clasping his hands around his tea cup and staring into it to avoid the awkward silence. It seemed that Snape didn't know what to say either. At last, when the already awkward silence was threatening to be unbearable, Harry decided to ask something that had been bothering him all day.

"Um, professor, you mentioned my mum this morning..."

Snape started, almost spilling tea in his lap. Evidently whatever he'd been expecting Harry to say, this wasn't it.

"...and I was wondering how well you knew her."

Snape said nothing for about three minutes solid. Harry was starting to worry that he'd said something wrong- after all, he barely knew the man. "I'm sorry," Harry said finally. "It was a presumptuous question."

Snape sighed. "No. You...have a right to know." A pause. "We were friends before Hogwarts. I would venture to say she was my only friend. But I...well, Slytherin is not the most welcoming of houses, especially to muggleborns. And I...did things to fit in, because a Slytherin half-blood who doesn't try to fit in would often end up 'committing suicide', while the teachers looked on. She...didn't know the half of it. I didn't want to worry her, and so all she saw was that I was practicing Dark Arts, and we had a lot of fights because of it.

"And then there were the Mauraders. I won't lie and say I didn't do my best to give as well as I got, but there were simply more of them." He closed his eyes briefly. "And then, in my fifth year, well...I was humiliated, I was tired, the girl I'd fancied had just seen me in an uncompromising situation. And I snapped. I didn't mean any of it, but that...well, that was the last straw for her. I...tried to make it up. Obviously, I couldn't. His voice took on a remotely angry tone. "That was, in the end, why I took the Mark."

Silence. Harry didn't know what to say. He was astonished, to say the least; _Snape had fancied his mother?_ and he was also rather sorry for him. He'd never actually really thought about what had made Snape the greasy bastard who he'd grown up to be. All the same, Snape probably wouldn't take well to sympathy. And...he wanted to know more about his mother. "What was she like?" He asked finally.

"She was...beautiful." Snape's voice cracked. "Always the top of her class, into every extracurricular except for Quiddich- she always said it was stupid and dangerous, mostly because she got vertigo when she flew. Had a fiery temper, too...much like yours. No doubt she would get on very well with Granger." His back straightened. "But I am afraid that I didn't call you here to talk about her." _'and I am not going to tell you anything else private'_ was underlying his words, and Harry decided to respect that, even though he could sit for hours listening to stories about his mum. Snape had, after all, shared a great deal more than he'd had to.

"So, um, what is it? Does it have to do with the ritual?"

"In a way." Snape took a fortifying sip of tea. "Has Dumbledore told you about the existence of...horcruxes?" He spit out that last word with all of the venom normally reserved for the Mauraders, or for Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Horcruxes?" Harry had never even heard the term before. "What is a horcrux?"

Snape took a careful bite of his scone before he responded, as though buying time to think. "A horcrux is the darkest possible magic, worse than even the unforgivables. It is created by, well, there's no good way to phrase it; it's simply a ritual murder. In the right circumstances, a horcrux affords a kind of limited immortality."

Harry stared at him. He was beginning to have an idea of what Snape was trying to say, but it took a few minutes to put it into words. "Oh shit! You're saying Voldemort made one of those things, right? Is that why he didn't die the last time?"

The Potions Professor winced. "Multiple. That is why he's no longer sane; a horcrux requires not only murder, but also the literal separation of one's soul into fragments, which are then embedded in objects. That's why it's Dark, and why there are no books in the Hogwarts library that detail the ritual. I believe he made seven total."

Harry felt sick. "You're saying he cut his soul into seven pieces."

"Eight, actually, as one resides in his resurrected body." Snape set down the scone he'd been holding for the past minutes, evidently having no desire to finish it. Harry didn't blame him.

"So how the Hell do I fight him if he's immortal?"

"Language, Potter," Snape told him, without heat. "I said _limited_ immortality. If you destroy a man's body, the soul will live on, either to be a ghost or to cross over. Whereas if you destroy a horcrux, the soul will also die, as it is separated from it's rightful place, and grows weaker over time."

"How do you destroy them, then? What do they look like?"

"You have already destroyed two, I believe, unknowingly. The headmaster has gotten ahold of a third, but there was a curse embedded in the ring; it is what ruined his hand. I...he is dying. I don't know anything else to do; I have slowed the decay, but the curse is a particularly nasty one invented by the Dark Lord himself, and there isn't a cure."

"I already destroyed two?! When was that? And what do you mean there's no cure- you mean Dumbledore is going to die?!"

"I...I bought him as much time as I could." Snape's voice was very low. "The original plan was that he would, well, stage his death, in a manner calculated to plant me in the Dark Lord's innermost circle, so that I could murder the Dark Lord when he least expected it." His face twisted. "Simply put, I was to kill Dumbledore before he died, and use that to 'prove my loyalty'."

Harry was appalled. "You WHAT?!"

"I did not say I made the plan, or that I wanted it. But I owe my freedom, my position, and my life to Dumbledore, and I had to listen to him. But...but that is not the worst of it. I was under unbreakable vow not to talk about any of this, until they were broken by _Flamma Aeterna_ , and most of all not to tell anyone what I am about to tell you next." He sighed, idly stirring tea long gone cold, in a complex rhythm that Harry recognized vaguely as the stirring pattern for a calming draught, as though by the motion he could infuse the tea with the draught in question.

"I...never wanted to tell you any of this, first because until now you wouldn't have believed me, and second because it is...well...not something that a child ought to hear. But it's clear Dumbledore means to take it to his grave, and you need to know." He sighed. "And...war is no time for preserving innocence." He closed his eyes. "Dumbledore's plan had, well, more to it. When the Dark Lord went hunting down you and your parents, he had already made five horcruxes. As a result, his soul was very unstable, and when the killing curse rebounded, it broke off a fragment of his soul, which promptly attached itself to you, as you were the only creature in the house left alive.

"I don't believe that it was strong enough to harm or possess you," Snape continued, voice shaking, as Harry listened in horror. "But, as long as it was there, Voldemort could return. So Dumbledore decided that the best way would be to sacrifice you."

"S-s-sacrifice me?"

"The bloody bastard didn't consider a healer, a goblin cursebreaker even! Bloody conniving bastard decided that it would forfill the prophecy if you died for the Greater Good of the Wizarding world!" Snape's voice rose in anger. "Then he could sit back on his arse and destroy the rest at his leasure." Snape deflated abruptly with a gusty sigh. "He's not all bad, I suppose, but the bloody idealist only ever sees the big picture. And with that lofty knowledge, he does not hesitate to play chess with men's lives."

Harry had been simply staring at him for the last few sentences. Finally, the dam broke. "I have one of those things _in me_? WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!"

"No one but Albus Bloody Dumbledore and myself knew, and I could not say anything. And I suppose _he_ was just taking his own sweet time. Although, if it is any reassurance, there is no doubt that the horcrux is now gone. The phœnix ritual would have destroyed it."

"So I won't have visions anymore?"

"Very likely not."

"Wait...does that mean I'm not a parcelmouth anymore?" Harry wondered. "Dumbledore said that Voldemort transferred the power to me."

"I don't know." Snape frowned. "Parceltongue isn't actually Dark, except by association, so there's a chance that you will keep it. We will have to test that later."

Harry gazed off into the distance, thinking. "Hold on, I just thought of something. Now that I don't have _lt_ in my head, does that mean maybe I could get occlumency to work?"

Snape stared at him. "That is actually quite a good point. Probably, yes. If you had been trying to contain an internal threat, you'd have been totally unable to block a direct external attack. And...admittedly, I can see now how poorly I went about teaching you. With your condition, and my method, it's amazing you managed to block me at all. I...did I ever explain exactly what I meant by 'Clear your mind'?"

"Um, maybe?"

"I'll take it that I didn't explain well enough." Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking. "You need to imagine something peaceful or meditative, something that pushes everything else to the corners of your mind. Think of clouds moving overhead, or waves on the seaside. Shall we," he hesitated, "Would you like to attempt occlumency again?"


	5. Mind Link

Harry was silent for a long moment, thinking it over. He didn't want to go back to the pain and humiliation of Snape's occlumency lessons. But if Snape had really changed, maybe it would be better. And Harry had to admit that he hadn't been the best student, either.

He _did_ need to learn- even without his scar, Voldemort could break into his mind, and Snape was the only one besides Dumbledore who could teach him. Besides, he honestly didn't want Dumbledore to know all his secrets. He didn't much want Snape to, either, but between the two, Snape was more approachable...and he knew much more already. If Snape was making a genuine offer, it might be better this time. And besides, he would do anything if it could keep anyone from dying the way Sirius...Harry jerked his head, breaking off the thought. "Y-yes, sir."

Snape looked marginally surprised that Harry had accepted, but his mask quickly covered it. "Very well," he said. "As the previous method wasn't...very effective," (Harry blushed) "we should start with meditation. Think of something soothing and repetitive, like waves on a seashore or leaves rustling in the wind. Something that excludes all other thought."

"Would flying work?"

"Pardon?"

"The feeling of wind rushing past your ears," Harry clarified, "and the feeling of being ungrounded, free. If I focus on flying, I can't think of anything else."

Snape's eyebrows rose. "That...could be quite effective. I personally used brewing as a focus, but I thought we should start simple." His lips twitched upwards a little. "Besides, somehow I don't believe you find brewing meditative." He took a sip of his now-cold tea, as though to give himself time to think. "Focus on that feeling. Let everything else fall away."

Harry closed his eyes, and imagined the wind rushing around him, imagined spreading his wings and launching himself from a branch, imagined himself diving and looping and maneuvering in the air. Distantly, he heard Snape continue to lecture.

"For now, we will use this as a method of clearing your mind. Eventually, you will learn to stay utterly in the moment, using whatever you are doing at that time as an occlumency focus."

Harry nodded serenely, concentrating on mentally executing a long, plunging dive.

"Focus," Snape continued softly. "When you can keep the flying sensation in the front of your mind for ten minutes, I will test you."

Harry started to grow nervous when Snape said "test", and suddenly it was all he could do to keep his thoughts from going all over the place. It took him several minutes to stop hyperventilating and focus on flying again. But now that his attention had broken the first time, it was harder to refocus. He started wondering what Ron and Hermione were doing, and got distracted. He wondered what time it was, and worried about Dumbledore's motives. He began to worry about the horcruxes, and the prophecy, and about the rite of Flamma Aeterna.

"Ready?"

Harry started and tried to refocus when Snape murmured " _legilimens_ ".

This time, he managed to keep thinking about flying (well, mostly) but what was most different was Snape's approach. Where before he had crushed his way ruthlessly into Harry's mind, now his mental probe was feather-light and non-confrontational. It took almost a full minute for his shields to waver, and when they did Snape quickly backed out of his mind.

"A good first start," Snape told him.

Harry was grinning uncontrollably. "I did it! Why didn't you try this the first time?"

"Because-" Snape stopped dead in the middle of a sentence. "Because the headmaster told me that we had no time for anything fancy, and that the blunt approach would be best. The odd thing is that I listened to him."

Harry stared at him. "Dumbledore told you what?"

Snape closed his eyes briefly. "That I should use the blunt approach, that it would work better." He frowned. "Surely he knew occlumency should be taught slowly, especially with one of your personality?"

Harry did not like the sound of this. "Maybe he thought you could crush Volde- sorry, You-Know-Who- in my mind?" he said, desperately trying to find justification.

Snape snorted. "That would hardly work without mangling your brain. No. This...this worries me. Shall we try again?"

Harry nodded, and focused on flying again, until Snape said " _legilimens_ ".

Snape's probe was a little more firm now, but not painful, and Harry withstood him. But then, all at once, he had a very curious overwhelming urge to reach out with his own mind, meet Snape halfway. Hardly realizing what he was doing, he reached out...and a blistering, blinding pain ripped through his skull, worse than a vision from Voldemort.

It felt like hours before Harry could move, and when he did, the world whirled around him, and his breath came in quick, shallow pants. What on earth had happened? With some difficulty, as his brain was still sore, he raised his head, to see that Snape lay sprawled across the table, senseless, his ebony wand lying inches from his fingers. When Harry shook him, he slowly raised his head, identical pain and confusion in his dark eyes.

_What happened?_ he asked. _What did you do?_ The odd part was that his lips had not moved.

Harry stared at him, and all at once the answer fell upon him like a stack of books. Hadn't _Oldest Rituals_ mentioned something about the possibility of a mind link? He didn't actually know anything about mind links, but this seemed like a plausible explanation for what had just occurred.

Evidently, Snape had heard or guessed his mental speculation, because he started cursing fluently in seven different languages, at least one obsolete. "This changes the equation," he said at last. "Mind links with minors are illegal, as they are either formed by Dark rituals, or...inappropriate conduct."

Harry blushed violently.

"They are also irretractable," Snape continued.

"Irretractable?" asked Harry, who didn't know the word. He was still red.

"It means it's permanent," Snape replied finally, his fear and worry rushing through Harry's mind, and making it hard for the boy to focus.

"So what happens now?" Harry was somewhat in shock. A mind link? With _Snape_? _PERMANENTLY_?

"You will have to learn occlumency now, at least as long as the Dark Lord is alive; he could use the link to his advantage. And..." he hesitated, then reluctantly went on, evidently realizing that he could no longer keep any secrets from Harry with the boy's mind tied to his own. "To be frank, you could have me sent to Azkaban for the foreseeable future for this."

"For the mind link? But you didn't do anything."

"The ministry will not see it this way." Snape looked down, unable to meet Harry's eyes, his mind whispering that Harry held his life in his hands. The fear and humiliation that Snape felt trickled through Harry's mind like icy water.

"Who'll tell the ministry?" Harry replied, wanting to reassure him. There had been a time when he'd nursed daydreams of getting Snape sacked, and such, but he felt differently now, and besides, he would _never_ send _anyone_ to Azkaban.

The flood of relief and gratefullness from the Potion Master caught Harry off guard. _He would keep such a thing secret? To keep_ me _out of Azkaban? Only_ _Lily; oh, Merlin, he twists his fingers the same way when he's distracted, I wish..._ The thought was abruptly cut off with a surge of frustrated anger- _that's private!_ \- as Snape discovered that Harry could hear his thoughts through his perpetual occlumency shields.

Harry yelped. "Sorry! I don't know how to stop!"

Snape just rubbed the bridge of his nose with a huffing exhalation. "This will be quite difficult to adjust to."

Harry thought that that comment could win "Understatement of the Century".

* * *

"Again! What did I just tell you?!"

Harry huffed a frustrated sigh, to tired to try to control his temper. It was half-past midnight, and any shock they might have felt had long since transformed into more volatile emotions. "I'm _trying_ , Professor!" He retorted. "It's just not working!"

Snape's frustrated anger nearly boiled over in Harry's mind. _Damn it! Why does the bloody brat make it his life's work to get on my nerves! I swear even James never made me this mad!_ "I thought, for a short amount of time, that you actually showed some potential." Snape growled aloud. "It seems I was mistaken."

"And _I_ thought, for a short amount of time, that you could try to be nice! I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh, because you're the occlumency expert?" Snape's sneer was only slightly less malicious than normal, and that could have been because he was so tired.

"No, because this is a _mind link_ , in case you don't recall!" Harry burst out finally. "I don't think it works the same! I can't seal you out because you're already in, so you'll never be able to test me!"

"I suppose you have a better idea?" Subdued curiosity trickled through the link, although Snape's tone did not change, and his frustration did not seem to abate.

"No, I'm just sick of trying this over and over and over and over and getting nowhere!" Harry slammed down the cup of hot chocolate he'd been drinking so hard it cracked. (Snape had sent the house elves for snacks some time ago, but they had long since been ignored.)

"Well I'm not explaining to Albus when he starts asking questions!" Snape told him, spit flying in his anger. "You've got to figure it out!"

"Can we just take a bloody break?"

"Do whatever you want." Snape's fingers curved around his wand. "Do whatever the Hell you want, Potter."

Harry was silent for a long time, trying to contain himself. And then he suddenly knew what they were missing. "If we're mind linked, can't you just go in and fix my brain so I can do occlumency? Anything is better than this."

"Don't be an idiot, Potter. How would that work?" Snape's voice sounded disgusted, but his mind lit up with intrigue. _What if he's onto something there? Maybe..._

"Give me one reason why it couldn't."

Snape was silent, thoughts churning.

"I thought so. So let's try it. I want to go to bed sometime soon."

"You're not the only one," Snape muttered. "Fine. I'll try not to fry your brain."

"Reassuring."

"You were the one who wanted to try it," Snape retorted. He frowned, mind now intent on the problem. _Hmm. Do I guide him through the process in his own mind, or would it be easier just to go in and put up the shields myself? The first would be slower, but the second one would likely be more traumatic. Not that trauma seems to faze him, but if he got hurt...he mustn't be hurt._

"So you do care," said Harry, too tired to self censor.

"Shut your mouth." Snape reached for a scrap of parchment and started trying to work it out on paper, like an arithmancy equation. "Do you want the quick way or the painless way?"

"Gee, I get a choice?"

Snape glared at him. "The quick way, then." And before Harry could say a word, or even think, Snape reached into his mind.

It was not at all a pleasant sensation, although it didn't hurt, either. He felt as though someone were rummaging through his brain, reorganizing it, and a strange, serene quality began to pervade his thoughts, as his darkest and most secret memories were packed up tightly and pushed to the corners of his mind. Harry gasped as Snape withdrew, eyes wide and unfocused. "Wait, is that what it's supposed to feel like?"

Snape closed his eyes. "Yes. Now be quiet, _some_ of us have to chaperone tomorrow."

"It's the Hogsmeade weekend?"

Snape opened one eye to glare at him. "Yes."

"And there's absolutely no chance I can get Mcgonagall to let me go?"

"You're an animagus and you have that bloody map. I'm sure you can figure something out. And watch out for Death Eaters. I didn't hear the full plan, but the Dark Lord has something in mind."

Harry grinned, his jubilation only slightly tempered by the thought of the Death Eaters.

"And I never said anything of the sort," Snape continued. "Now go to sleep."

A long silence. And then: "Professor?"

Snape's slow, easy breathing hitched. _What does he want now?_ His mind groused. _It better be good. Maybe if I just pretend to still be asleep..._

_Not gonna work, Professor,_ Harry thought back. "I was wondering...just one more thing...did Dumbledore tell you about the prophecy?"

The effect was electrifying. Snape jolted fully awake, emotions spinning out of control, self hatred and grief and fury all melding together into a curdling deluge, flashes of images running through their minds.

Dumbledore, sitting on a stool in a shabby private room in the Hog's Head, with Trelawny sitting on the bed, her eyes blank as she began to speak, voice rough and taut with magic.

An old man, with silvered auburn hair and hard blue eyes, gripping Snape by the arm and dragging him away. "Your kind is not welcome here."

Snape, kneeling before a man with dark hair and red-tinged eyes, panting out: "My Lord, I have news."

Snape, expostulating with a gorgeous red-haired woman. "Lils, you don't understand. He thinks it means you, you and your baby. I don't care what James Bloody Potter thinks, you've got to take Harry and get out of the country! He'll kill you, can't you understand!"

Voldemort, younger and still human-looking, breaking out into a deep laugh from his great throne-like chair. "Of course you may have your reward, Severus. After the child is dead, you may take your pleasure with the mudblood."

Snape shivering in the rain, eyes glazed with fear, on his knees before the stern figure of the Headmaster. "Anything," he breathed, head bent in abject submission, greater even than he showed to the Dark Lord. "I'll do anything."

Snape clinging to a pale and limp figure, his entire body shaking. "Lily. I tried. I tried so hard."

Dumbledore, looking down unsympathetically down at the young Potions Master, head in his hands as he wept. "He has her eyes."

" _Don't!_ " Snape burst out like a wounded animal, voice inhuman in his despair. "She's gone! Dead! I wish _I_ were dead!"

Snape, on his knees in an unfarmiliar room, the Dark Lord, now his disfigured, resurrected self, leaning over him and pouring a whole bottle of veritaserum down his throat. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

Harry jerked out of Snape's thoughts through pure force of will, breathless. What. The. Hell.

Snape was blinking away a suspicious moisture, self hatred and breathless grief mingling with his anger at Harry's intrusion. "I expect you saw all of that," he said at last, voice rough.

"I'm sorry!" Harry was still trembling. "I didn't think-"

"You don't often." Snape returned harshly. "I- get out."

"I'm sorry!"

"Get out." Snape said again.

And then Harry snapped. "It was my bloody mum who died!" He spat. "Don't you think I deserved to know the truth? That you sent her to her death?"

Snape stared at him, and the air chilled ten degrees in as many seconds. "You little-" he paused, suddenly, mouth still open, and then closed it abruptly, defeat ebbing from him in slow, murky, despairing waves. And a silent tear slid down the Dungeon Bat's cheek.

* * *

Harry froze, knowing in an instant that he had gone too far. Snape was shaking very slightly, his face averted in an attempt to conceal the tears sliding helplessly down his cheeks behind his curtain of silky dark hair. The shared emotions churned in Harry's mind, causing the trapped phœnix inside him to flutter. Harry's human mind was not so forgiving, but even so, it was very hard to stay angry at the man when he could feel his remorse and grief and abject humiliation that a student, that _anyone_ was witnessing his breakdown.

"I- I'm sorry, professor..." Harry said very quietly, not knowing what to do. Snape didn't respond, not even when Harry laid a cautious hand on his shoulder; he looked as though he needed physical contact, but Harry was _not_ going to hug him, and Snape would probably have hexed him off anyway.

For who knows how long they sat in silence, Harry simply listening to the professor's hitching breathing and trying to puzzle out his own mess of thoughts, even after Snape's uneasy breathing had smoothed into a slow rhythm and his head sank back onto Harry's shoulder.

Harry didn't even notice. He had sank into a meditative, half-aware state of mind, pondering: Snape had obviously loved his mother obsessively, which was kind of disturbing from an outside perspective, but also really sad and yet his actions led to her death but he was obviously trying to atone but that couldn't be a mistake how could it be a mistake and what did the prophecy mean anyway and so on and on until at last Harry himself fell asleep.

It was not, however, a peaceful slumber. Strange dreams, an amalgam of his and the Potion Master's memories, haunted him; it was the third task, and he was in the graveyard, dragging Cedric Diggory's body towards the golden Triwizard trophy, but suddenly as he turned to adjust his grip on the limp forearm it was Lily Potter, and he jerked awake with a strangled gasp. It took him several minutes to stop hyperventilating and realize where he even was, and a few more before he was able to sink again into a fitful sleep.

This time he was in the Chamber, and a youthful Tom Riddle was pacing the room. But then Harry noticed that the Chamber of Secrets was full of Death Eaters. And Riddle said kneel, and he did, without knowing why, and the sixteen year old pressed his wand on the soft, pale inside of Harry's left arm, and intoned " _Mordisme vinculum forma_ ". And an ugly black mark blossomed on his forearm.

Harry shuddered in his sleep and adjusted his position, green eyes flickering half open. Then he closed his eyes again, sinking into dreams of Quiddich games in which he played James Potter, and dreams of his mother, so beautiful and perfect that it brought tears to his eyes even in his sleep, and of Remus Lupin twisting into a werewolf in the Shreaking Shack, and of brewing polyjuice in the abandoned bathroom, except when he looked up, it was Lily and not Hermione who was shredding the lacewings and putting them into the cauldron.

When Harry next woke, it was obviously morning. He blinked and sat up, unsure where he was. A light cough had him instantly at attention, all the memories rushing back, and he pulled away from his professor, and sat up straight, blushing furiously. He'd fallen asleep almost on top of him! Snape's thoughts did not seem angry, but surely he was. "P-professor Snape?"

Snape sighed, his thoughts churning with resignation and mild anger and a little happiness, just a momentary flicker. "Potter. We should probably call for breakfast. And then you need to return to your dorm before you're missed."

Harry nodded mutely. "I'm sorry, professor," he said at last. "For what I said last night, I mean."

"You...had a right to be angry." The Potions Master scrubbed one hand across his face, as if that could erase the vestiges of a night of crying. "It was, while not entirely my fault, my mistakes and inane choices that caused her to...that caused it. But I do not want to speak about it. Pokey!" he called, changing gear. "Bring something for breakfast!"

A chipper little house elf wearing Hogwarts insignia popped in, called "Yes professor Sevvy sir," and vanished again. A slight smile tugged up the corners of Snape's mouth, which honestly surprised Harry more than the elf, especially since he could feel Snape's mild amusement through the man's occlumency barriers.

"You do know that there's such a thing as privacy?" Snape commented.

Harry started fiddling with the corner of his Gryffindor tie. "Sorry! I'm trying!"

"You are very trying indeed."

It was a few moments before Harry realized he had to shut his mouth. Had Snape actually made a joke?

Snape looked as though he might have commented, but at that moment, Pokey popped back in, carrying two plates loaded with bacon and eggs. "Here you are, Professor Sevvy, sir!" she squeaked, clearing off the tea service and the last remnants of fossilized scones and marmalade and putting down the plates. "Will you be wanting anythings else?"

"No thank you Pokey," Snape responded. Pokey squeaked and popped out.

They are breakfast quickly, and without much talk, the former because Harry needed to be back in Gryffindor Tower as soon as possible, the latter because neither of them actually knew what to say after the happenings of the previous night. What little talk there actually _was_ was mostly mind to mind, with a few comments out loud. Anyone listening would not know what to make of it.

When at last they had finished, and Pokey had cleared away all the dishes, Snape flicked his wand to replace the glamour (which had fallen the previous evening in the Rooms of Requirement) cast a quick cosmetic charm to clean the remnants of his breakdown the previous night, and led Harry to the portrait, which they both ducked through.

They came out into the deserted classroom, and Snape twitched his wand to banish the brined iguanas back to their jars and dispel the smell, which had permiated the classroom. Another wave, and the tubs cleaned themselves and flew back to the back of the classroom to settle in a stack.

"I do not have to remind you to keep this to yourself and Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?" Snape said as Harry turned to leave the classroom.

"No, of course not- wait, I can tell them?"

"I wouldn't be able to stop you," said Snape dryly.

Harry gave a startled laugh and nodded. "So I guess I'll be going. See you at Hogsmeade?"

"Actually," broke in a new voice, "I would like to see you both in my office. Now, please."

It was the Headmaster.


	6. Headmaster Dumbledore

Harry shot a quick glance at Dumbledore. He was not smiling, and the notorious twinkle in his eyes was noticeably absent. Then he glanced at Snape, who offered a barely-perceptible nod, and both of them turned and followed Dumbledore up out of the dungeons, through chill winding corridors, where the rough gritty stone of the walls was wet with moisture, slimy with mold. Finally they reached the Great Hall and crossed it, going from there to the circular staircase that led to the headmaster's office.

At the top, Dumbledore laid a hand on the gargoyle's head, causing it to slide aside, and motioned for the others to go first. Snape and Harry looked at each other, and then Snape stalked into the room. Dumbledore waited until they were both there, and then walked around to the chair behind his desk, and heaved himself into it. For an uncomfortably long time, he simply looked at them sternly over his half-moon glasses, his fingers tented against his chin. He did not offer them a lemon drop.

Snape was the first one to break. "Headmaster," he began, unease flowing from him in waves, "What, exactly, did you call us here for? _S_ _ome_ of us have exams to grade, and I'm sure the Golden Boy has homework he's been neglecting."

Dumbledore was silent for another uneasy moment. "Severus," he said at length, "I expected better of you."

"What do you mean?" Snape asked him. Harry had a growing suspicion, but neither of them really wanted to think about it.

"I know you loved his mother, but that does not excuse your advances. I-" He got no further, as Snape cut him off with a choking noise, utterly appalled.

"I was in the same year as his father!" He managed when he could speak, still a delicate green. "I would _never_ make advances on a child, much less one of my students. I thought you knew me better!"

Dumbledore did not relax his stern scrutiny. "What else do you expect me to think?" He returned. "Mr. Potter is absent two nights from Gryffindor Tower, once somewhere outside the wards and once in your private chambers, which, I might add, is not allowed, and the portraits told me that the two of you returned together the night before last, wearing nothing but shabbily conjured robes. Add that two the drastic shift in house points, which you are obviously behind, as no other teacher takes more than fifty points total in any given day, and how do you think it looks?"

Harry met Snape's eyes. _"What do you want to tell him?"_

_"Tell him that you healed me, but try to keep your animagus form to yourself. I believe that you can lie convincingly. Above all, don't mention the mental block. He would not be happy, and I would rather stay out of Azkaban."_

_"Will he believe me?"_

_"I -we- can only hope. Now start talking, or he will be suspicious. More than he already is, that is. I will corroborate whatever story you tell."_

_"Got it."_

Neither of the two noticed the astonished and worried look that Dumbledore fixed on them, as he noted the changing expressions on their faces and the faraway glint in both of their eyes.

"Um," Harry begun, "I sort of might have saved his life."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot way up. Evidently that was not what he'd been expecting.

Snape snorted. _"Well that works. Although you will have to figure out a lie for why you were in the Forest..."_

_"Oh, I won't need to lie,"_ Harry told him with a mental smirk. "I missed Quiddich practice last week, you know," (Hermione had bullied him into studying for the Herbology exam) "So I was out flying when I came across Professor Snape, and he was unconscious. So I flew down and landed to see if he was ok, and he had some nasty wounds. Luckily, ever since the Chamber incident I've wanted to have some phœnix tears on hand, just in case, and I had some with me, so I fixed him up as best I could, then gave him a blood replenisher. I had to cut his robes off though, and they were so bloody and messed up that I just conjured a cloak for him, and I'd used part of mine to bind a giant gash."

Dumbledore did not look convinced, but after a moment he turned to Snape. "Is he telling the truth?"

Snape could say yes in all honesty. "Indeed. I had just come from a particularly nasty Death Eater meeting, and I did not exactly apparate right to the gates. I would probably have been dragged away by a denizen of the Forbidden Forest if he had not been there. It is perhaps a good thing that he is such a Quiddich enthusiast. As for the points, I was simply tired and very sore, and a few of my students crossed me a few too many times. That and I don't have to play the loyal Death Eater any longer."

"What?!"

"I did not make my report yesterday because I was recovering. However, the gist of the meeting was simply to announce an attack on Hogsmeade, at least, that was all _I_ heard. I was late, so it was possible I missed something. In any case, as I was late, the Dark Lord decided to have 'fun' with me, which involved an overdose of veritaserum. I'm afraid I spilled everything."

"Everything?!"

"My true loyalties and the full text of the prophecy. He might have asked more, but at that point he was too angry to be coherent, so he passed me off to Bellatrix."

Dumbledore set his elbows on the desk, sighing heavily. "If that is the case, we are in a great deal of trouble." He frowned. "Although that does not explain why Mr. Potter spent the night in your rooms."

"I fell asleep." Harry told him sheepishly, barely even having to affect the tone. "I'd been up all night the previous nights, one for studying and then one for saving Professor Snape, and I ran out of pepper-up."

"The dunderhead asked me for one," Snape chipped in to make it believable. "I asked why, and he told me, so I let him sit down in my chambers, because I didn't want him slicing off a finger instead of an iguana cross-section. He was asleep before I even got the damn potion."

"And you didn't take him back to his dorm?"

"I didn't want to wake him up, and I was _not_ going to carry him, magically or physically."

"You didn't want to wake him up? I didn't think you'd care."

"I didn't. Not about him anyway." Snape idly took a lemon drop from the nearby dish and twisted it in his fingers. "I just didn't have the energy to wake up a grumpy teenager. I do that enough already!"

Dumbledore smiled a little, but his eyes were still grave. "Very well then. I believe that it is time for you to chaperone the Hogsmeade group. We will, however, be discussing this later. And Harry?"

"Yes sir?" said Harry nervously.

"I do believe that your permission slip is signed already. You are both dismissed," he added while the pair got up and turned to go, Snape still absentmindedly rolling the lemon drop, wrapper and all, in his sweaty hand.

"Thank you, sir," Harry called over his shoulder to a brooding headmaster as he shut the door behind them. Dumbledore was thinking too deeply to reply.


	7. Hogsmeade

Harry and Snape parted at the bottom of the staircase with a respective sneer and pout, sharing a mental laugh at the act. Then they sobered abruptly.

 _"Be careful,"_ Snape told his student mentally. _"I don't know when the raid will start."_

 _"All you have to do is listen for the screams."_ It wasn't a joke, and neither of them took it as such. _"I'm going to try to meet up with Ron and Hermione; see you around?"_

 _"No doubt. I_ will _be chaperoning you dunderheads, after all..."_

_"Dunderheads, are we?"_

_"Yes,"_ replied Snape apologetically. _"Now move along; your friends are probably worried."_

Harry grinned and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, while Snape cast a ' _tempus_ ' and then went out the main entrance in a hurry; his shift had already started.

"Out all night again I see," said the Fat Lady disapprovingly. "Have a lover or something?"

"No, actually, I had detention." Harry snapped. "Pride of Gryffindor."

The nosy portrait swung inward on it's hinges, reluctantly allowing Harry into the common room. Hermione and Ron were waiting for him.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," she started up.

Harry sighed. "Yes, I know. I promise I'll explain at Hogsmeade."

"You'll explain here," she countered. "And it better be good."

"C'mon, I finally have a permission slip!" Harry complained. "I want to actually go to Hogsmeade without having to hide under a cloak. We could talk over butterbeer."

"He has a point," Ron broke in. "It doesn't have to be in the Rooms."

"We could be overheard!" Hermione protested.

"That's what anti-eavesdropping charms are for, Miss Granger," Harry replied distractedly, as Snape was complaining mentally about rowdy third years in his head.

"What did you just call me?"

Harry didn't answer. After a moment Ron waved a hand in front of his face: "Earth to Harry," and Harry blinked and refocused.

"Did you just call me Miss Granger?"

"It _is_ your name, is it not?" Hermione stared at him, and he face-palmed abruptly as he realized he'd unconsciously been parroting Snape's thoughts. "Sorry Hermione. I'm not completely myself right now."

"That's abundantly clear," Hermione told him with an odd look. "C'mon. We're going to Hogsmeade. And then you better tell me what's going on. I've been worried about you!"

The trip then left for Hogsmeade by way of the secret passage behind the statue of the humpbacked witch, as it was shorter then walking to Hogsmeade the regular way and the thestral carriages had already left. Once at Hogsmeade, they wandered around a little, (Hermione couldn't resist Scrivener and Shaft's, and Ron wanted to stop by Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, while both Harry and Ron were united in saying that since they'd arrived by the basement of Honeyduke's, they might as well look around. Then, at last, the three of them settled in a booth in the Three Broomsticks, and Harry ordered butterbeer.

"Why aren't we doing this at the Hog's Head or something?" Ron asked as Rosmerta took their order and moved on to the next table.

"We learned that lesson only too well last year," Harry replied, thinking of Umbridge. "We stand out too much in an empty bar. And they won't be able to overhear anything." He closed his eyes, reaching out to Snape's mind. _"Professor?"_

_"Potter? What do you need? If you're just contacting me because your infantile mind needs more stimulus than your friends can give..."_

Harry startled his friends by laughing aloud. _"I actually wondered if you knew a good anti-eavesdropping spell."_

 _"_ Muffliatus _; the wand movement is a pass with a very slight curve. You should feel it ripple outward when you cast it; it causes any eavesdroppers to hear only an unidentified buzzing."_

Harry grinned. _"Got it, thanks Professor Sevvie."_

Equal parts amusement and anger flowed through the link, accompanied by a deduction of points for being too familiar with a teacher. Harry giggled.

" _Muffliatus_ ," he said, waving his wand with the correct movement. A ripple of magic spread outward from their table, fizzling out soundlessly. " 'Kay, no worries about eavesdropping."

"What-" Hermione cut herself off, and took a deep drink of butterbeer, evidently trying to work out which of her millions of questions she should ask first. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but Ron was already talking.

"Did you actually sleep with Snape?" He managed.

"Ron!" Hermione interrupted, but she looked like she wanted that answered too.

"Yes and no." Harry told them after thinking it through. "We didn't have sex or do anything improper, if that's what you're worried about, but I might have fallen asleep on top of him."

"Explain." Hermione's voice brooked no argument.

"He figured that his office might be bugged, and he had some really important things to say, so he let me into his quarters. I might have gone into shock. After screaming at him."

"Harry..." Hermione began.

"What on earth did he tell you?" asked Ron curiously.

"Um, so you know the prophecy in the DOM?"

"Yeah- Merlin! You mean it's actually real?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore told me the text last year. Basically Voldemort and I have to fight, and one of us will have to die."

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, Harry!"

But it was Ron who actually picked up on the first part of what Harry had said. "Hold on. You said Dumbledore told you last year, right? So why were you in shock?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "You were avoiding the question!" she accused. "And you shouldn't scream at a teacher, either, I get that you were upset, but-"

"I wasn't finished," said Harry dully. "Look, I can understand if you want to break it off after I tell you," he started. "Just...please let me finish."

"Break what off?" That was Ron.

"Our friendship." Harry closed his eyes briefly, only opening them when Snape told him to get it over with, because pausing in the middle wouldn't change their reaction, only make it more painful.

"Why the _ would we do that?!" Ron burst out. Hermione thumped him for cussing, but she looked just as upset about the thought.

"Because until recently, I had a piece of Voldemort's soul in my head."

"You WHAT?"

Harry ducked his head, unable to meet their eyes. "I had a piece of Voldemort's soul in my head," he repeated. "It was in my scar, that's why I had visions all last year, and why he couldn't possess me. And Dumbledore knew!" he ranted. "He knew and he wasn't going to tell me, he was just going to let me die for the greater good, that's why he never actually have me any real training." Harry's shoulders were shaking, the butterbeer churning in his gut.

Hermione looked just as sick as he felt, and Ron was wide-eyed and trembling. "I...its not your fault." Hermione said at last. "I'm not going to break it off, you're nothing like that...thing. Just...it's a little disturbing to think about, you know?"

"Dumbledore was going to let you _die_?" Ron shouted, making several people at other tables jump; they could hear the volume if not the words.

Harry sighed heavily. "That was my reaction too."

"Surely there is some way it could be removed? What if he could hear us right now!" That was Hermione.

"It's gone already," Harry told them. "It was destroyed by the whole ritual thing. I think the goblins could also have removed it."

"Then why didn't Dumbledore take you to the goblins?"

Harry took a deep swig of his butterbeer. "I have no idea. Absolutely no idea."

It was a long time before anyone spoke again.

"Ok, any more surprises?"

"Well..." Harry began, "Maybe. Apparently Snape fancied my mom. Also, we might have a two way mind link."

The looks on his friends' faces were priceless.

Hermione, for the first and last time he had known her, was totally speechless. Ron, however, spoke for both of them. "And you're only now mentioning this?"

"So how would a mindlink work?" asked Hermione, now that the surprise had somewhat worn off. She looked like she was itching to take notes. "Can you have mental conversations, or do you just hear his general thoughts? Is there any way to block it or stop it? How long will it last? Is that why you called me 'Miss Granger'? Does the link work all the time or just when you want it to? How did it activate? How-"

"Whoa, Hermione, slow down!" Harry told her at last. "Can you repeat all that?"

Hermione blushed and clasped her hands reflexively around her mug of butterbeer. "How did it activate? I assume that the ritual helped, but it only said 'potential mindlink' and so I didn't think-"

"Wait," Ron broke in, butterbeer froth still clinging to his upper lip, "I'm still back on 'Snape fancied your mum'?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah. Apparently they were best friends. Then they had a giant fight, and Mum started going out with my dad." He paused, processing Snape's irritated thoughts: _That is private! Now it's going to be all over the school! Can't you just keep_ some _things to yourself Potter?! Kindly tell Weasley and Granger that they will be rendered into potions ingredients if they gossip._ Harry sighed, gulping a little. "Sorry Professor," he muttered aloud.

His friends jumped. "He's listening in? Like, right now?"

"I assure you that that is not my intent," Snape commented through Harry. The mind link, to answer your question Miss Granger, is permanent and connects us at all times except when one of us is drugged or asleep, although it allows for functional distance."

Hermione, as if losing patience with being unable to take proper notes, pulled a muggle pencil from the pocket of her jacket and began to scrawl on a butterbeer-stained napkin. Ron pushed his chair back, staring at Harry.

"Um. Excuse me if I'm a little unnerved by this."

"Ron, we all are!" said Hermione, exasperated. "But there's nothing we can do to change it, so it's useless to fuss."

"But _think_ about it! We'll never be able to have a quiet moment, or sneak down to the kitchens after curfew, or, anything! Plus Harry can cheat of Snape's brain anytime he feels like it! It's an unfair advantage!"

The argument might have gone on longer, but at that moment, there sounded the faint pop of apparation in the street outside, and then distant screams. The anticipated Hogsmeade attack had at last come.

Harry was at once alert. "The attack. We gotta get back to Hogwarts."

Hermione stuffed her note-covered napkin in the back with her new books and pulled on her cloak, while Ron gulped the last of his butterbeer and Harry grabbed the bag with the Honeyduke's purchases. None of them noticed the chunky beetle with knobs on her antennae who took flight from behind the table display.

The streets of Hogsmeade were total chaos, especially for those who couldn't just apparate out or barricade themselves in locked and warded cottages. Death Eaters were everywhere, and not only that, but dementors, seemingly all the dementors of Azkaban, were drifting through the streets, drinking away every drop of happiness that could be mustered. Almost without thinking, the Golden Trio fell into a pattern, Ron blasting Death Eaters, Harry blasting dementors, and Hermione sending off an otter patronus to Professor Sprout, the chaperone assigned to their group.

The dementors grew closer, the chill and heaviness in the air so thick it was like wading through syrup. Harry began to falter, and Ron grew more sloppy at blocking with their effects, so that a Dark cutting curse got through and sliced into Harry's wand arm. The sudden shock of pain broke his fragile concentration. And suddenly memories were pouring through his mind.

_Sirius, tumbling backwards through the veil. His juvenile father sneering at 'Snivelus' as the Mauraders hexed him. Voldemort's voice screaming "Kill the spare!", and Cedric collapsing lifeless. The world was spinning. Lily screaming "No! Not Harry, please not Harry!" Sirius again. Ron sacrificing himself to Mcgonagall's enchanted chess board. Everything was going hazy. Quirrelmort. The basilisk in second year. Umbridge's detention. And that was when everything faded to black._


	8. The Battle of Hogsmeade

Severus Snape's day was actually looking up. By some quirk of fortune, he had been scheduled to chaperone the 3rd-5th year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. True, they talked much more than the Gryffindor-Slytherin group, but there were fewer fights to break up, and they were easier to keep an eye on: the Ravenclaws only ever wanted to go to Tomes and Scrolls, and the Hufflepuffs only ever wanted to go to Honeyduke's and The Three Broomsticks, so they were easier to keep track of than his Slytherins, who often tried to sneak into the shadier shops, or the Gryffindors, who were fond of exploring and occasionally vandalizing.

Not only that, but Severus had also thought of a way to partially control the link with his immense occlumency skill; if he focused on separating Potter's thoughts from his, rather than occluding him out completely, he believed that he could keep his secrets. He was trying to think through the practical application for his theory when he felt Harry contact him through the bond.

_"Professor?"_

Snape started. "Potter? _What do you need? If you're just contacting me because your infantile mind needs more stimulus than your friends can give..."_

Potter's amusement warmed Severus like hot, frothy butterbeer, not that he'd ever actually admit that. _"I actually wondered if you knew a good anti-eavesdropping spell."_

Snape thought for a minute. "Muffliatus," he said at last, remembering the creation of that particular spell. _"T_ _he wand movement is a pass with a very slight curve. You should feel it ripple outward when you cast it; it causes any eavesdroppers to hear only an unidentified buzzing."_

" _Got it, thanks Professor Sevvie."_

Severus was momentarily angry; then he remembered Lily's sparkling eyes as he was tutoring her, calling him the same thing, and felt the boy's bubbling amusement. And suddenly he was not angry any more. Well, he still took ten points from Gryffindor...

Potter giggled and cast the spell, then reassured Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger that they were in no danger of being overheard. Severus stood among barrels of Pepper Imps and Creeping Comfits, keeping an eye on his Hufflepuffs while still managing to listen through the link. Potter's friends were actually tolerable when they were not in his classroom blowing up cauldrons.

Granger was evidently readying herself for a volley of questions, but Weasley, always the blunt one, cut right to the chase.

"Did you actually sleep with Snape?" He managed.

"Ron!" Granger interrupted, despite looking as if she wanted to hear an answer to that as well.

"Yes and no," Potter replied after a long and totally unnecessary thought process. "We didn't have sex or do anything improper, if that's what you're worried about, but I might have fallen asleep on top of him."

"Explain." Granger sounded quite as stern as Molly Weasley, and Severus caught himself wondering if she would and up as her daughter-in-law.

"He figured that his office might be bugged, and he had some really important things to say, so he let me into his quarters. I might have gone into shock. After screaming at him."

"Harry..." Mt. Granger looked as though it were about to erupt.

"What on earth did he tell you?" asked Weasley curiously.

"Um, so you know the prophecy in the DOM?"

"Yeah- Merlin! You mean it's actually real?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore told me the text last year. Basically Voldemort and I have to fight, and one of us will have to die."

Granger's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, Harry!"

It was Ronald, however, who caught Potter's Slytherin distraction, which honestly surprised Severus. Maybe there _was_ , actually, something rattling around in that thick skull of his. "Hold on. You said Dumbledore told you last year, right? So why were you in shock?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "You were avoiding the question!" she accused. "And you shouldn't scream at a teacher, either, I get that you were upset, but-"

"I wasn't finished," said Harry dully, thoughts whirling. "Look, I can understand if you want to break it off after I tell you," he started. "Just...please let me finish."

"Break what off?" That was Ron.

"Our friendship." Harry closed his eyes briefly, he might have stayed that way forever, but at length Severus broke in to give him a nudge: it would be easier to get it over with, not wait in the middle. The pause would only make the shock of their reaction more painful.

"Why the _ would we do that?!" Ronald exploded, looking horrified at the very thought. Granger reached over and smacked him in the back of the head, and even with the tension in the air, Severus couldn't help a momentary smirk. If he had ever been any doubt about who wore the pants in their relationship, well, he didn't now. Weasley was lucky to have her.

Severus sobered quickly at the next words. "Because until recently, I had a piece of Voldemort's soul in my head."

 _"Way to break it to them, Harry,"_ Severus commented on a flat attempt to lighten the mood. Potter ignored him.

"You WHAT?" Weasley burst out.

Potter winced, the link tingling with residual horror and humiliation. Severus absently sent him a wave of comforting feelings. "I had a piece of Voldemort's soul in my head," he repeated. "It was in my scar, that's why I had visions all last year, and why he couldn't possess me. And Dumbledore knew!" he ranted. "He knew and he wasn't going to tell me, he was just going to let me die for the greater good, that's why he never actually have me any real training." Harry's shoulders were shaking, his anger and horror and physical nausea pounding over Severus in a wave. The Potions Master was dimly aware of leaning back against the wall of Honeyduke's, struggling to occlude the raw emotion before he was sick.

Hermione looked just as sick as he felt, and Ron was wide-eyed and trembling. "I...its not your fault." Hermione said at last. "I'm not going to break it off, you're nothing like that...thing. Just...it's a little disturbing to think about, you know?"

"Dumbledore was going to let you _die_?" Ron shouted, tactless as always. Although to be fair, he was justified in being angry.

Potter sighed heavily, gloomy thoughts beginning to subsume the anger. "That was my reaction too."

Granger, if anything, was practical: "Surely there is some way it could be removed? What if he could hear us right now!"

"It's gone already," Potter told them. "It was destroyed by the whole ritual thing. I think the goblins could also have removed it."

"Then why didn't Dumbledore take you to the goblins?"

Potter took a deep swig of his butterbeer; Severus could actually taste it. "I have no idea. Absolutely no idea."

The trio of Gryffindors fell silent. Severus, after somewhat recovering himself, began to walk up and down the isles of Honeyduke's, making sure the Puffs were somewhere in the general vicinity and trying not to think about how they would act after they had actually consumed all the sticky confections they were purchasing. It has been a long time since he had purchased anything more than a sugar quill, and that had been for Mcgonagall, for Yule.

As no one was getting up to mischief, Severus tuned back into the conversation currently being held between the three Gryffindor 6th years. _Who needs stimulus now?_ he thought sardonicly. "So how would a mindlink work?" Granger was saying, fingers twitching as though she wished she had a quill and parchment at hand. Severus was rather concerned when he realized he wasn't sure if it was Potter or himself who thought that her actions were 'cute'. "Can you have mental conversations, or do you just hear his general thoughts? Is there any way to block it or stop it? How long will it last? Is that why you called me 'Miss Granger'? Does the link work all the time or just when you want it to? How did it activate? How-"

"Whoa, Hermione, slow down!" Potter told her at last, Severus sympathizing. "Can you repeat all that?"

Granger reddened and clutched her mug of butterbeer like a lifeline. "How did it activate? I assume that the ritual helped, but it only said 'potential mindlink' and so I didn't think-"

"Wait," Ronald broke in, butterbeer froth still clinging to his upper lip, "I'm still back on 'Snape fancied your mum'?"

Severus groaned. Potter had to tell his friends _everything_?

Harry sighed. "Yeah. Apparently they were best friends. Then they had a giant fight, and Mum started going out with my dad." Severus was beginning to grow frustrated. It was painful enough to tell Potter that, and he was at least sympathetic. Severus did not want his private love life to become a gossip byte, or, worse still, some tragic, romantic, mushy pity fest to be passed around and forever corrupt his reputation in the process. _That is private! Now it's going to be all over the school! Can't you just keep_ some _things to yourself Potter?! Kindly tell Weasley and Granger that they will be rendered into potions ingredients if they gossip._ At least Potter was immediately contrite. "Sorry Professor," he muttered aloud.

Severus had to admit he enjoyed the looks on the faces of the two Gryffindors. "He's listening in? Like, right now?"

Severus was compelled to disabuse them of this notion. "I assure you that that is not my intent," he commented through Potter. "The mind link, to answer your question Miss Granger, is permanent and connects us at all times except when one of us is drugged or asleep, although it allows for functional distance."

Granger, as if losing patience with the inability to take proper notes, pulled a muggle pencil from the pocket of her jacket and began to scrawl something on a butterbeer-stained napkin. Weasley pushed his chair back, staring at Potter wide-eyed, as though he had suddenly turned into a thestral, or Black, whichever was worse.

"Um. Excuse me if I'm a little unnerved by this."

"Ron, we all are!" Granger said, finishing whatever she was writing and cramming the napkin into her pocket, then sticking the mugglewriting implement over her ear. An instant later she grabbed another napkin and took out the pencil again to add something to the mess of writing. "But there's nothing we can do to change it, so it's useless to fuss."

"But _think_ about it! We'll never be able to have a quiet moment, or sneak down to the kitchens after curfew, or, anything! Plus Harry can cheat of Snape's brain anytime he feels like it! It's an unfair advantage!"

Granger opened her mouth, but before she could continue the argument, faint apparition pops sounded outside, together with screams. "The attack," she said instead. "We gotta get back to Hogwarts."

Severus instantly refocused on his surroundings. The Death Eaters were much closer to Honeyduke's than The Three Broomsticks, and the students, as well as the general inhabitants of the town, were milling about in panic as Death Eaters shot curses into the crowd. Severus instantly gathered his group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws around him. "Hogsmeade is being attacked, as I'm sure you can perceive. Everyone under 17, which I assume is all of you, must head back to Hogwarts at once; there is an emergency tunnel in the basement of Honeyduke's that will take you straight to Hogwarts. Prefects, you're in charge of leading everyone back and rounding up stragglers. I have to stay to fight. Go on, hurry up!"

At that moment, the front window of Honeyduke's exploded in a shower of glass, which fell among the baskets of confections like so much macabre sugar candy, and several of the girls screamed. Without looking to see if the students were obeying, Severus turned and bolted for the front door, drawing his wand as he did so.

Outside, the streets of Hogsmeade were a riot of students and citizens running, masked and plainclothes Death Eaters flinging unforgivables at close quarters, and a pitiful detail of aurors trying to defend against at least two score their number.

Severus was instantly in the thick of it, flinging curses himself as he fought to give his students the time to return to Hogwarts. Storefronts were blasted with spells and Death Eaters and citizens fell, until the mäilstrom had abated, by virtue of the fact that there were no more Death Eaters left.

Severus lowered his wand, wand-hand shaking. It was over, at least in this part of town.

"Professor? Are you hurt?"

Severus whirled. It was a Hufflepuff, Hannah Abbott if he recalled correctly; her face was badly gashed, but she was grinning uncontrollably. She'd evidently been fighting alongside him, and Severus was both unimaginatly frustrated at her disobedience and strangely touched by her concern.

"Go back to Hogwarts," he stated, without a trace of his usual vitriol. He was simply too tired! And that was when the memories hit him.

A chill. A feeling as though all the happiness in the world was being sucked away, drop by drop.

_Sirius Black was falling backwards through whispering drapery, his back arching with the blasting curse Bellatrix had cast, laughter on his wasted, Azkaban-weary face, as Potter screamed his name. / James Potter, Sirius laughing and nudging a guilty-looking Lupin as a juvenile Snape hung upside down in the air, slowly rotating, Lily whirling and running as he called her something hateful in his humiliation. / the Dark Lord's high, wavering voice as he screamed "Kill the spare!" and Cedric Diggory fell dead. / Sirius Black once again. / Ronald Weasley being struck in the skull with what looked to be an animated, lifesized chess piece. / Quirinus Quirrell"s face twisting into a horrible smile. "Oh, Severus seems just the type, doesn't he, swooping about like an overgrown bat. With him around, who would suspect p-poor, st-stuttering p-professor Q-Quirrell?' / A frankly terrifyingly large snake rearing over him, swaying as it fought to sense without its blinded eyes, as he rammed a sword down its gullet, as one of its fangs broke off in his arm. / Umbridge, her voice dripping like frosting which hadn't set up: "Oh, until it sinks in," as he wrote lines with an illegal contract quill-_

Severus gasped, the world swimming into focus as Potter lost consciousness.

"Are you ok, sir?" Hannah repeated louder, and he became aware that she had been shaking him.

"Dementors," he gasped, struggling to suppress his _own_ worst memories. "Dementors in Hogsmeade. AND WHY ARE YOU NOT BACK AT HOGWARTS, MISS ABBOTT!"

Miss Abbott flinched. "I couldn't leave you!"

A peculiar feeling swept over the potion master then, his black eyes widening ever so slightly as he tried to think of what it was, and realized with a shock he hadn't words to describe it. "I-thank you, Miss Abbott." A pause, then Severus got unsteadily to his feet. "Come. You should be back at the castle now; it's not safe."

"What about you, sir?"

"I-I'll live, I was simply taken by surprise. Go on-"

The girl turned in the direction of Hogwarts, turning in shock at Severus's next, ever so quiet words: "And Miss Abbott? Fifty points to Hufflepuff for saving a teacher."

The dementors grew closer, the chill and heaviness in the air so thick it was like wading through syrup. Severus raced down the street, in the direction of the dementors, blasting Death Eaters on the way. And then his heart nearly stopped. The golden trio was in the middle of the road. Potter lay senseless on the cobblestones, while Weasley, still half conscious, levered himself up on his elbow in an attempt to use his wand. Granger stood over them, trying to fight off two Death Eaters and a coven of dementors. And Severus lost it.

Severus Snape had never considered himself, by any stretch of the imagination protective. Loyal, yes. Dangerous, yes. Righteous? Well, it depended. But when he saw the danger his students were in, something snapped. And he forgot the torrent of memories, forgot his mismatched wand, forgot the fact he was outnumbered two to one.

"FENRIR, WALDEN, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY STUDENTS!" he roared, and then, as a dementor bent over the struggling Weasley, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Nothing happened for a solid minute, except that his wand grew blisteringly hot in his hand. And then a burst of golden light exploded from the tip, coalescing into a blazing golden doe, which bounded towards the dementors surrounding the outnumbered Gryffindors and tore them to shreds of black, slimy cloth and fragments of bone.

The Death Eaters stared at him mute and slack-jawed, and before they knew what was happening, both of them were flat on their backs, bleeding from the throat. Severus was too tired for the "stun only" game the headmaster liked to play.

Then he turned towards the three Gryffindors, oblivious to the other students and citizens staring at him.

"How bad are the injuries?"

"Harry got hit by a nasty cutting curse and Ron's been hit by a few good hexes," she replied automatically, sounding somewhat dazed. "How- patronuses aren't supposed to do that. They can't kill dementors! How did you kill them?"

"I honestly do not know," Severus replied. "Come, let's get you back to the castle."

Granger nodded. Suddenly, her gaze fixed on something behind Severus and her eyes widened. "Professor, behind you!"

Severus whirled- too late. And looked into Alecto Carrow's grinning face as she shouted " _Incarcerus!"_ , grabbed his immobilized body, and disapperated.

As Severus was summarily thrown into a call in Riddle Manor, all he could think was that he was so moronic for not watching his back. After all this, he was a prisoner. Not because he'd been outed as a spy, rather, because he had simply let down his guard. It was humiliating!

Severus stewed in sullen silence, cheek pressed against the stone floor and bonds chaffing at his wrists, waiting in the darkness.

He later would not be able to tell how long he lay there, wondering in tense silence when his death would be pronounced.

Some time later, perhaps a few minutes, or a few hours, he was roughly dragged to his feet by a masked Death Eater, not one that he recognized, and was led up through the tortuous passages that connected the dungeons from the remainder of the manor, and dragged into the meeting room, in the center of a gathering, bound and under guard. Around him, hostility or concern glinting through the eye-holes in bone white masks stood other Death Eaters he had known in better days: a lock of distinctive silver-blond hair denoted Lucius Malfoy, and he could see Bellatrix fingering her new wand. He knew that there was a vicious smile concealed behind that mask... It was with satisfaction, however, that he noticed Walden Mcnair had his throat bandaged, dark red fluid leaking from under it slowly. Severus had never taught the Death Eaters the counter to his favourite spell.

"Ssso."

Severus could not help tensing as the Dark Lord began to speak.

"I have called you here today to congratulate you on a job well done: Scrimgeour is well on his way to being out of office. I also, as you might notice, have a secondary reason for calling you. Alecto Carrow has caught a traitor."

Murmers. Severus shifted his weight, absently tugging at his bonds, mind working furiously behind his occlumency shields. He was _not_ going to die here if he could help it.

"...one who I once thought my most loyal," the Dark Lord was saying. That was a lie. He had suspected him ever since he was a scrawny seventeen year old boy, tugging up his sleeve so that he could be Marked. "I give you permission to be as vicious as you want, provided you do not kill him."

The Death Eater standing guard over Severus yanked him roughly, bringing him to his knees. And then they were upon him.

The sport of Death Eaters is too unpleasant to be described. Curses, potions, poison, physical assault, Severus withstood it all, a strange unnatural calmness sweeping over him as it all transpired. There was something almost liberating about not being forced to pretend to partake in the baiting. Agony tore through every fiber of his being, but long bouts of the crucitus under the Dark Lord had hardened him to pain, and the Mauraders had taught him to suffer humiliation in silence. And somehow, perhaps because of the shock, it didn't hurt as much as was usual. And then, at last, when golden stars were exploding in his vision and his knees were too weak to hold him, the Dark Lord called his followers off.

"This, then, is what happens to traitors," he hissed, red eyes glowing unpleasantly. "You will be back with your dear mudblood soon now."

"Poor baby," chipped in Bellatrix, laughing insanely. "You think Dumbledore's gonna save you, don't you. Or perhaps you think you could convince us to let you go?"

"Maybe Dumbledore will send his phœnix to spirit you away." That was Avery.

"Oh, wait, he only does that for Gryffindors!" Bellatrix was pacing, almost licking her lips. "Do you think he even noticed you were gone?"

Severus flinched, trying not to think about that particular possibility. Bellatrix seemed to know she had struck a chord. "Do you think he even cares?" she went on viciously.

It was the Dark Lord who at last quieted her. "Come now, enough. I know you're having fun, but it mustn't take the entire night. After all, there's more on the agenda. Draco, come forward."

Draco took a hesitant step closer, shivering visibly as the Dark Lord hissed not to be afraid.

"I wish to honor you with my Mark," he began, and Severus shuddered as a chill passed over him. A Marking ceremony always meant a death. "But you must first prove yourself."

Severus could predict the next words as though he had said them himself. "Kill Severus Snape."

Draco's nervous grey eyes went wide. Slowly, as if in a dream, he drew his wand, fingering it uncertainly, rolling it in his fingers.

 _So this is it then,_ Severus thought, letting his eyes slide shut. Not because he was afraid to meet his death, but because he didn't want to see his godson kill for the first time, to lose that last fragment of innocence that Severus had fought to preserve. The silence stretched out.

"Any last words?" Voldemort hissed mockingly, red eyes, like embers, glittering with anticipation. "Going to cry, Severus? Or beg? I'll make it quicker if you beg..."

Severus knew he couldn't escape; and he was determined not to break. At this point he was fairly in shock. "Go to Hell, Tom."

Voldemort was shocked into silence for approximately a minute, nostrils flaring and slit-like red eyes blazing. Then he screamed in wordless fury. Then, sobering a little, he raised his wand. Severus refused to flinch. " _Crucio_!"

Severus started, his whole body spasming. Not, however, because of the pain. Because there was no pain.

Severus hadn't thought anything could surprise him more than the ritual. That was, however, before he discovered that he was somehow amune to one of the darkest spells created. To be sure, he still felt the fierceness of the magic bubbling under his skin, but there was no pain. Not at all. Severus's eyes widened. All of a sudden, the utter surreallity of the situation struck him, and an almost unhinged smile twisted lips unaccustomed to humor. Several of the Death Eaters looked distinctly unnerved.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" Severus drawled, cocky as a Gryffindor with his impending death. After all, he would never get the chance to blatantly taunt Lord Voldemort again. At least not in this life.

Voldemort nearly dropped his wand; Severus would almost have been amused if he were not preoccupied with the blood rushing in his ears. "KILL HIM!" he roared at last.

Severus smirked into his livid face. The smirk quickly died away as he saw Draco Malfoy approach him, as if in a dream. He raised his wand, fingers shaking ever so slightly as his father looked on in concern and the other Death Eaters in vague regret or anticipation. Severus closed his eyes, wishing the boy would just get on with it, just end him. He opened one eye as Draco began to say the fatal words. " _Avada K_ -" he broke off, lowering the wand. "I can't!"

There was sudden silence, and Severus knew that the foolish boy had signed his death warrant in that instant. " _Crucio!_ " Voldemort hissed, and Draco collapsed screaming. Severus managed to muster the energy to draw himself to his knees, but not nearly enough to help him. He could only watch as Draco writhed, as Voldemort rolled his wand between his fingers, as Lucius Malfoy stood by, a look of agony on his face. The coward! As if it hurt him to _watch_ as much as it hurt Draco to be under the spell.

"I trust you have learned your lesson?" said Voldemort coldly.

"Yes! Yes I have!"

Severus would have face-palmed if he had had the energy. The boy was digging his grave every word he spoke. "Tom," he began, hoping to distract Voldemort, but though the monster's nostrils flared, he did not look away from his newest toy.

"I've learned I don't ever want to be a murderer, no matter what you do!" Draco went on defiantly. "I've learned that I don't want to grovel- least of all to you! I-"

He was cut short as Voldemort snarled the _crucitus_ again. This time Lucius Malfoy seemed to fight an internal battle with himself, and lose. And the elder Malfoy flung himself protectively over the body of his son.

It was at that moment that he heard it. It was faint, ever so faint at first, just the hint of something just beyond his grasp. Ever so slowly it grew clearer...

It was music. Spine-tingling, glorious, unearthly music. Music that brought with it a hint of honey and palm wine and papyrus in bloom, that made his heart (contrary to popular belief, he did possess such an organ) seem to swell uncomfortably in his breast and a lump to find itself in his throat. It sounded like Fawkes, but lower and more melancholy, which could only mean-

A rustle of feathers interrupted his thoughts. Potter's mind was not so clear when he was in his animagus form, but he distinctly felt worry, disgust for the situation, and concern for Draco, together with the permanent sense of " _I'm flying_ " that always swept over him when he was in the air. Severus had never felt so grateful- or so angry- with the boy.

And then the phœnix landed heavily and somewhat ungainly on his shoulder, gripping it with sharp black talons and flapping his wings as he tried to get a grip on the silk. One wind idly hit him in the head as Harry settled. Severus, being in shock, couldn't find it within him to care.

Harry screeched triumphantly, nearly deafening him, and flamed just as Severus grabbed a full handful of both Draco and Lucius's robes. His last thought before he lost consciousness in a storm of electric blue was that the look on Voldemort's snake-like face was definitely going to be a patronus memory for him.


	9. A New Bond

Harry Potter woke in the hospital wing. Not that he wasn't used to _that_. For a long moment he couldn't remember what had happened to land him there. Then, in an instant, it crashed over him like a tsunami, and he hissed in pain as the link burst into life, all the agonies of Voldemort's tortures racking his body as though he were the one being cursed. He thrashed on his hospital bed, tangling himself in the sheets, panting, unable to breathe or think.

Madame Pomfrey was by his side in a flash, her wand out to do a diagnostic charm. Harry was already dragging himself out of bed.

"Stop right there, young man!" Madame Pomfrey never wanted her patients to escape without being treated, especially not patients in such a condition as Harry was.

"Can't!" Harry panted, jade green eyes hooded with pain. "He's being tortured; he's going to die!"

"Whoever it is, the headmaster can take care of it," said Madame Pomfrey, pressing him down. "Now I want you to drink this; you don't need to be having visions right now."

Harry smelled it and realized that it was dreamless sleep potion. "No," he responded, shoving weakly at her hand. She didn't understand! "You need to get Dumbledore. Please!" He gasped, praying it would work. She'd probably just cast a patronus...

But for once in his life, Harry was in luck. Madame Pomfrey looked at him suspiciously over her glasses, but at last seemed to decide that he was in no condition to be sneaking away anyway and left the room in a hurry, the door locking with a smart snick as she closed it behind her.

She needn't have bothered. The minute she was out of the door, Harry struggled unsteadily off the bed, nearly tripping as he untangled his leg from the sheets, and shifted to his phœnix form.

It took a moment to get his bearings, considering the pain he was feeling through the link and the ecstasy of the transformation. Once he had changed, however, the transformation seemed to have muted the link, which wouldn't have been a problem had he actually known where Riddle Manor was. However since he didn't, having only ever seen the inside in visions, he had to close his eyes and try to trace and track the link, which, he felt, was more time that he could spare.

Slowly, ever so slowly, images began to coalesce in his mind, the gloomy corridors and glowing candelabras of Riddle Manor wavering and flickering into view like an old home movie on a bad projector. The world seemed to elongate, dissolving into silence and electric blue fire, and then, all at once, it snapped back into place.

Sounds reasserted themselves. Harry caught himself with a hasty flutter of wings, head still reeling from having flamed, and blinked his achy eyes until the spots went away; apparently even a phœnix can have trouble seeing after being assaulted by bright light. And then cursed thoroughly, although it came out as only a hiss and a clack of his beak. The Death Eaters, and by extension Snape, were nowhere to be seen.

It took him a painful amount of time to find the room in which the Death Eaters were meeting. It was actually an accident more than anything else. He had been flying silently throughout the Manor, trying to locate Snape by the link, when he heard voices through a locked door. Specifically Voldemort's voice. He drew closer, perching on an empty torch sconce as he waited until he had enough energy to flash through the locked and barred doors. It was prohibitively difficult to flash more than two times in quick succession and worse to go through wards...and he would still have to flash out. With a passenger.

"Any last words?" Voldemort hissed mockingly. "Going to cry, Severus? Or beg? I'll make it quicker if you beg..."

Harry would have expected to feel fear through the link, but only an odd sort of clarity and resignation reached him. Snape's next words flooded Harry with surprise. And respect. "Go to Hell, Tom."

An unholy scream rang through all the house, making Harry flinch involuntarily. Then Voldemort roared " _Crucio_!"

Shock. That was the predominant emotion that Harry could feel. Not pain, not fear, just simply shock. Harry wondered for a second why Snape was so surprised, seeing as Voldemort used the torture curse at nearly every meeting, and then, all at once, it hit him. There was no pain. Not at all. Harry shuddered. That was impossible...wasn't it? Was Snape going insane? What the Hell would happen to Harry if he was mind linked to a mad man? Suddenly Snape's burst of unhinged laughter made a lot more sense.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" Severus drawled. Harry shuddered again. Snape was definitely going mad. Either that, or he'd realized that there was no point keeping up the spy facade. Harry fluttered his wings impatiently, worry filling him. When Voldemort got mad, he got dangerous. To be sure, he was also sloppier, but with Snape outnumbered and tortured, there was no contest.

And Voldemort was most definitely mad. "KILL HIM!" he roared, after a petrified silence. Harry was almost ready to flash... To his shock, the voice of Draco Malfoy drifted through the secured doors

" _Avada K_ -" he began, voice wobbling uncertainly. Then he broke off. "I can't!"

A silence fell, broken only by the shuffling of Death Eater boots and the rustle of Harry tucking his wings more closely around himself.

Then Voldemort hissed " _Crucio!_ " and Draco Malfoy began to scream.

"I trust you have learned your lesson?" said Voldemort coldly.

"Yes! Yes I have!" Draco's voice had a defiant note in it.

Snape seemed to be trying to distract Voldemort, but before he could say more than "Tom", Draco went on: "I've learned I don't ever want to be a murderer, no matter what you do! I've learned that I don't want to grovel- least of all to you! I-"

He was cut short as Voldemort snarled the _crucitus_ again. The link grew incandescent with Snape's fear for Draco.

Then Harry knew, without a doubt, that something had to be done, even if he wasn't _quite_ ready to flash. He knew he'd be more drained, but he couldn't just let Voldemort kill them all! And he closed his eyes so tightly that they ached and flashed through the locked doors.

He reappeared in a lofty room, with ornate ceilings and shabby brocade carpet; evidently it had once been a parlor or a ball room. The Death Eaters were congregating around Voldemort's throne, and Snape was on his knees before it, flanked by two Death Eaters and covered with blood. Closer still to the throne lay Draco Malfoy, with Lucius, still wearing his Death Eater robes, his mask crooked, draped over him, taking the full brunt of a _crucitus_ that Voldemort was casting.

Harry had to do something!

And all of a sudden, some hidden phœnix instinct told him what to do. And he began to sing.

Music, spine-tingling, glorious, unearthly music, rippled through the room, causing even the Death Eaters' faces to transform with awe. Harry swooped between the startled minions, aiming for Snape's shoulder. At last he landed unsteadily, claws scrabbling on the slippery material of Snape's outer robes. One wing smacked the side of Snape's head, and Harry winced internally, but struggled to focus on trying to flash out again without killing himself or Snape.

Harry screeched a phœnix cry of triumph, ringing throughout the room and reverberating through the heating ducts, and gathered strength to flash a final time.

Snape hurriedly grabbed onto Draco and Lucius's robes before Harry could stop him. Not that Harry didn't want them to be saved, but he'd never flashed a single person, much less three and after he had already flashed two times in as many seconds- they could end up in Somalia for all he knew! But it had to be said that no matter where they rematerialized, he would never _ever_ forget the look on Voldemort's serpentine face. Harry made sure to flip him an obscene gesture with one clawed black foot before they disappeared into the formless blue flame of phœnix apparation.

They stayed in the dazzling blue of the void between Riddle Manor and the hospital wing far longer than Harry had ever stayed before. The silence was absolute, and the sapphire magic seemed to swirl around and through them, bathing and filling them with its oppressive, awesome beauty. Harry's eyes began to ache, and his whole body started to tremble with the exertion of keeping his passengers with him during the transit. He was almost afraid...and that was when he reappeared, once again, in the hospital wing, his elegant body sprawled over Professor Snape's unconscious body, and with two defecting Death Eaters hanging off of him.

Harry couldn't move for a long moment; his entire body felt the same sort of lazy bliss as if he had been sunbathing on some tropical coastline, and the stress, not of overexhausting his magic, but of trying to control too much, was starting to wear on his borrowed form. At length, however, he realized that every second he deliberated Snape didn't get treatment, and that the Malfoys would probably need anticrucitus. With a supreme effort of will, he stirred from his place on top of Snape and fluttered to an unobstructed spot on the floor where he shifted back, nerves singing with phœnix magic.

He lost no time kneeling beside his erstwhile Defense Teacher, checking his pulse. What if the flaming had killed him! But no, Snape's pulse was strong as ever, if a little faster from stress, and Harry's phœnix instincts knew he would be ok. Although he was definitely giving him medical attention.

Harry sat back on his heels for an instant to think, and then heaved the unconscious Potions Master onto one of the hospital beds. Then, knowing Snape would _not_ be pleased if he were to cut away his teaching robes, he busied himself with the tiny black buttons and high collar, loosening the garments until they were part way off.

And that was when it hit him. To be sure, Snape _was_ injured, but the bruises were yellowing and almost healed, and several angry red lines denoted what had clearly been nasty cuts only a few hours earlier. Harry frowned, wishing he knew any of Madame Pomfrey's diagnostics. He stopped to think. He was about to fetch one of Madame Pomfrey's medical books, or the witch herself, when one of those curious feelings that he had been having ever since he became an animagus washed over him, and he stopped, mid-step.

It was so faint he might have missed it, had he not been growing hyper attuned to his so-called instincts. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, a chaotic swirl of faint images battered at the edges of his consciousness. Five poisons, one of which had been neutralized and two of the others being well on their way. Six temporary torturing potions, four of which were being leeched from his system as their effects had expired. Some nasty cutting curses, some physical damage, bruises from bludgeoning hexes. Several welts and burns. All the bones in his left hand crushed. His liver, also, had run afoul of a liquidation curse, but there didn't seem to be any damage that a _finite incantem_ and a mild healing spell couldn't fix. What on earth?!

"Accio dittany, tincture of witch hazel, and murtlap salve," he said, struggling furiously to remember what he knew, and what he had learned from Snape's mind. He was not willing to deal with any internal damage on his own, but he wanted to help with the scrapes and welts. The bottles at once flew into his hand, and he began cleaning the cuts with Wizarding antiseptic and healing cream, then plastering the welts with soothing murtlap, occasionally summoning bandages or more first aid potions. It did not even register that he had not actually drawn his wand.

Once Professor Snape had been stabilized, Harry for the first time realized that he wasn't alone in the hospital wing, and that Madame Pomfrey was supposed to be there.

Lucius Malfoy had his wand in hand, and was looking around the hospital wing as though expecting to be attacked, wary grey eyes following Harry's every move. Draco was sitting on a bed, simply in shock. Harry sighed. He couldn't just patch Snape up and let them suffer, could he.

"Accio calming drought, accio anticrucitus!" Harry called distractedly. Two bottles flew into his hand. Harry met Mr. Malfoy's eye. "Catch!" he called, and Lucius, still staring at him, plucked the little brown bottle out of the air with all the ease of a seeker. "Two spoonfuls ought to work to start," continued Harry, not even sure how he knew that. Then he walked towards the bed Draco was sitting on.

"Malfoy?" He said hesitantly.

No answer.

"Draco, look, you need to drink this."

Draco gave him a vacant stare, evidently in shock. Harry didn't blame him. He did not, however, want to deal with trying to get the catatonic Slytherin to drink the calming draught, so at last he simply pressed the lip of the flask to his lips, tipped his head back, and poured the cool fluid down his throat, before starting to stroke his throat as one might a cat.

And that was when he felt the cold wood of a wand pressed to the back of his neck.

He reacted instantly, without stopping to think. In a moment, Lucius Malfoy lay bound at his feet, and the almost-empty calming draught bottle rolled across the floor, trailing the remnants of its contents.

"What the Hell, Malfoy? I could have killed you!"

Lucius Malfoy stared up at him balefully, and not without fear. "I could say the same. What were you giving my son?" he asked tightly.

Harry was so surprised he nearly dropped his wand. "A calming draught, Malfoy, he was going into shock. You think I would go to the trouble of saving your arses just so I could poison him?" He paused, rather surprised by his own boldness- he'd just freaking addressed Lucius Malfoy like an equal. Then he sighed. "I-sorry. It's been a long week." He raised his wand. "I trust that you will at least not hex me until I've finished patching you guys up?"

Lucius nodded unwillingly, and Harry allowed the bonds to dissolve.

And that was when a strident voice issued from the entrance to the hospital wing. "May I ask what, exactly, is going on in my hospital wing?"

Harry glanced back over his shoulder and barely managed to swallow a curse. It was Madame Pomfrey, and she did _not_ look amused. And Madame Pomfrey on a rampage was one step below Voldemort.

"Oh, you know, the usual," he said at length, somewhat distractedly. Blood rushed in his ears as his magic thrummed; what was it trying to tell him? He frowned, focusing on the tingling in his fingers, trying to concentrate.

"What do you mean, the usual?!"

Harry ignored her, as he was walking, trance-like, towards the senseless Potions Master. He had the odd, thrilling impulse to run his fingers over the man's wounds, and by now he knew better than to ignore the magic bubbling under his skin. He paused by the bedside.

Madame Pomfrey was approaching. "What are you doing?"

Slender fingers were brushing, light as butterflies' wings, over the cuts and welts, sapphire fire trailing in their wake. And the wounds were healing, closing, the Dark residue dying away into nothing. Snape shuddered, lips parting slightly, and leaned into the touch with a little huff of air. "Healing him," Harry replied, ever so quietly. "I think Mr. Malfoy needs treatment for the _crucitus_ , though..."

Madame Pomfrey stared. Then, abruptly, she exploded into gear, diagnosing and treating a still somewhat jumpy Lucius Malfoy and mothering a still shellshocked Draco. She had nearly finished with her treatment of the Malfoys, still trying to put a name to the half-familiar face that had taken control of her hospital wing when she heard the shuddering gasp of Severus waking up.

She was instantly by the bed, ready to interfere the instant the stranger finished whatever healing magic he was doing; she would have stopped him in the middle, but that had the potential to be still more dangerous.

Harry was ignoring her, or, more properly put, he had hardly seen her in the first place. Magic was thrumming along the bond with the healing flowing through his fingers, and Snape's chaotic, awakening mind was making his own head ache painfully. "Merlin, professor," he gasped at last, visibly making an effort to focus, "are you always like this when you wake up?"

"It is simply that your imbecilic mind cannot tolerate my intelligence," Snape muttered, still half awake. For him, the insult was almost a form of affection, and Harry's lips curved upwards unbidden.

Harry stroked light fingers across the man's skin again, tracing the last few wounds and causing the Potions Master to shiver. "How do you feel?"

"I feel as though I've been trampled by a hippogryph- what do you expect after a torture session?" Snape said almost sulkily. "And- what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"Healing you," Harry replied resolutely.

Snape's black eyes narrowed. "Madame Pomfrey can get it from here- last time you tried to heal me you very nearly incinerated me. And I don't want any more...surprises."

"I don't think-"

"No, you don't- you never think! You bloody teleported into the Dark Lord's main stronghold and out with passengers!" Madame Pomfrey stared, wand slipping from her nerveless fingers to clatter on the smooth white floor and roll away. "Did it even occur to you that he might have had anti-animagus wards up? Had you even ever flashed with a passenger before? And now you're practicing more untested, experimental magic on me?"

Harry winced. "If I hadn't tried 'experimental magic', as you put it, you'd be dead!" he snapped at last. "So would Draco and Lucius Malfoy."

_"And we wouldn't be bloody mindlinked!"_ the Potions Master thought furiously, and then, out loud: "Are they ok?"

"I assume so."

"You _assume_?"

"I was kinda busy saving your arse, professor," Harry said, letting his magic soak into Snape's body, mending it, letting a power as warm and soothing as hot chocolate trickle into the air around them. Unnoticed by either wizard, a faint golden glow was beginning to shimmer between and around the two of them. Lucius Malfoy, the only one in the room who knew what that entailed, drew a sharp breath.

Snape flushed at the mention of his rescue, his thoughts muttering about being saved by a child, because he was too stupid to help himself. That is until Harry slapped him. "Don't think like that, you were taken by surprise, that's all! You think mum would want you beating yourself up for letting down your guard for approximately five seconds? It's not a crime to need help, professor."

The glow strengthened ever so slightly. Snape stared at him, black eyes wide with emotion- at first anger, and then, maybe, something else. "I...Harry..." Three simultaneous gasps sounded in the hospital wing, as Madame Pomfrey and Lucius Malfoy discovered the identity of the mysterious youth and Draco heard his godfather call the hated Gryffindor by his first name.

Harry smiled a little. "Relax. Last I checked, you just came back from a torture session."

"Don't remind me," Snape shifted on the bed, rumpling the sheets as he tried to get comfortable. He paused. "You do need to learn to think things through before you plunge in like a bloody Gryffindor!" he said at last. "You don't know what the implications of your new powers are, nor do you know your limits. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days!"

"Yes professor," said Harry cheekily, green gaze sparkling with warmth. "You do realize that I _am_ a Gryffindor though?"

"You never let me forget it," the Potions Master grumped. "Speaking of, twenty points from Gryffindor for going on a stupid, dangerous rescue mission."

Harry pouted playfully. "You love me anyway."

"Impossible brat," Snape responded, lips twitching. "Only you would be so blase about snatching a traitor out from under Tommy's nose, with a magical animagus form, and then healing me _wandlessly._ "

"Well, when you put it that way..."

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey seemed to shake off her stupor. "I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that I'm still the mediwitch. So while this is quite touching, would you mind pausing your conversation until I can scan Professor Snape?"

Harry jumped back with a squeak that he would later fervently deny. "Yes Madame Pomfrey, sorry," he said obediently, moving over so that she could pass her wand over the prostrate Potions Master.

Madame Pomfrey waved her wand, muttering an unfamiliar spell, and then pressed the tip of her wand onto a piece of parchment. Slowly, ink bled from the tip, steadily forming line after line of text. By the fifth line, the mediwitch was frowning. By the tenth, her eyes were very wide. Her eyes widened still further as the paper began to extend, growing inch after inch. It was a full ten minutes before it even began to slow down, and another five before it stopped. As soon as it stopped, she picked it up and began to read, emotions whiplashing across her face the farther she read, making the occational comment: "No history past the last two days" "not possible!" "he should be dead" "liquidation curse" "punctured lung" "How is he even alive?" and "how is the _crucitus_ damage marked healed?

Still frowning, she put down the paper and began performing a different scan, wand moving in elegant loops while Snape did his best to keep still.

This time the paper was emitted directly from the end of her wand, and it, too, kept on growing, although it took a substantially lower time than the other. Madame Pomfrey let it grow as long as it would, and finally, when it stopped, picked it up and started reading it. This time, her reaction was more drastic. As in, her eyes popped out of her head and she squeezed the paper so tightly that it crunched in her sweaty hands.

She opened her mouth for a moment, and then closed it, rendered speechless by whatever she had read. Finally she seemed to gain control of herself. "Severus," she said in an odd, half angry, half shocked trembling voice, "Is there something you'd like to explain?"

"Well, in order explain, I have to first know _what_ is to be explained," said Severus dryly, reaching for the paper. The humor died from his face entirely as he read, Harry peering over his shoulder.

**_Magic diagnostic of Severus Tobias Snape, male, age 34_ **

**_Core status: φ type, integrated_ **

**_Magic status: replenished, very high levels of free radical magic, much primal and Ancient magic_ **

**_External magical damage: minimal, healing process boosted_ **

**_Dark taint: minimal_ **

**_Aura type: ζ silver and gold_ **

**_Potential Soulmates: Lily M. Potter, nee Evans (deceased), Irma Pince, Poppy L. Pomfrey_ **

**_Bond Status: a Sacred Triple Bond with one Harry James Potter, composed of a full mindlink, a soul-bond, and a type Ψ animagus bond._ **

There was a long, dead silence. Then, finally, Snape sucked in a long breath. "Well," he said dryly, still staring at the parchment, "I believe that this changes the equation drastically."

"Um...so what does it mean?" asked Harry, who had been looking at the parchment from his seat on Snape's hospital bed.

"It means that we can't keep this a secret any longer, and the Ministry of Magic might get the wrong idea," said the Potions Master grimly.

"What do you mean? No one has to know besides everyone in the room, and I can make the Malfoys keep quiet about it."

"It's...not so simple, Potter," Snape told him. "Sacred Triple Bonds are very rare and powerful, and every one that forms is detected by the Department of Mysteries. We should be receiving a Ministry owl by tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Shite," Harry muttered, glaring at the scrap of parchment in Snape's hand as though it were the source of all his problems.

"Indeed," Snape replied, not bothering to reprimand him.

"So, um, you've told me about the implications, but what does the bond thing _do_ ," Harry asked after a moment.

Snape stared. "How- you have not heard of a Sacred Triple Bond?"

"How would I?" Harry responded sourly. "Last I checked, professor, I was raised with a bunch of muggles who didn't even tell me magic exists."

Harry was rewarded by the unlikely occurrence of his austere DADA professor facepalming. "I swear I will kill Albus," he muttered, then went white as he remembered that he had actually been ordered to do just that. After he had recovered himself, he went on, assuming his 'professor voice'. "A Sacred Triple Bond is essentially just what it sounds like: that is, a bond of magic that links two people, comprising a mindlink, soul-bond, and shared animagus bond. They are _very_ rare, and can either be formed by several illegal spells and rituals or can spontaneously form between soulmates. Essentially, with the bond you share minds, and your soul is...for lack of a better word, shared with your bondmate. The shared animagus form can mean that both have the same animagus form or that both have a hybrid between the two forms, provided both have an established form."

Harry nodded, trying to assimilate the information he had just been given. Then it all hit him at once, and he stammered impotently for half a minute before seeming to halfway recover himself. "Wait, do you have an animagus form?!" he asked, beginning to panic again.

Snape smirked. "No," he said at last, and Harry slumped in relief. "Although I did take the Draught of Discovery..."

"Why didn't you become a full animagus?"

A pause. "I wanted to, if only to show the mutt that I could. However, I decided that I didn't want the ridicule. I would have been a fruit bat."

Harry giggled, and Snape muttered "Brat," although not without affection.

And that was when Madame Pomfrey's chill voice broke over them. "Give me one reason, just one, not to report this to the proper authorities, Severus,"

Harry and the professor looked at each other, and then Harry blurted out: "We can explain."

" _We_ , Mr. Potter?" said Madame Pomfrey, pursing her lips. "I might remind you that you are still underage."

Harry blushed violently; he seemed to be doing that a lot, recently. "I never- we never-" he broke off, trying to gather his scattered wits.

Snape abruptly came to his rescue. "It was an accident; I did not and would never act inappropriately with a student!'

"That's not exactly better," the mediwich said, still looking at Snape coldly. "Did you use the _Servate_ ritual, then?"

Snape, if possible, grew even paler. "No, of course not!" he burst out, seemingly appalled, and Harry learned from his mind that the ritual mentioned was a ancient magical slavery ritual, one that essentially bound someone permanently to his master; it had fallen out of favor, both because it could render either participant in the ritual a squib or bind them together forever in a forced Triple Bond, if done wrong, and because it was punishable by eighty years in Azkaban and then the dementor's kiss.

"So how did this happen, then?" said Madame Pomfrey, not warming any.

"It was an accident," Snape repeated, raising his dark gaze to the woman's face. "Harry is a phoenix animagus, and he somehow managed to bond me."

"A _phœnix_ animagus? Forgive me if I find that hard to comprehend."

Harry knelt and let the primal magic bubbling inside his core reshape his body, wings arching up over him, one beady jade eye studying the mediwitch, while the other studied the rest of the hospital wing. Scaly black talons skittered on the floor as he took a shaky step; it was much harder to walk in this form.

Of all the wizards currently in the hospital, Severus Snape was the only one who didn't react. Madame Pomfrey was rarely anything but composed, but in this instance Harry was amused to note that at witnessing his transformation her mouth was as wide as Ron's had been. On the other side of the wing, Lucius Malfoy was only slightly more dignified, now that his previous shock had more or less does away. Draco was asleep.

"O...kay, I stand corrected," Madame Pomfrey said shakily. "Severus, might we go over the rest of your scan before we get off track? There are a number of abnormalities here..."

Professor Snape frowned. "Such as?"

"Your core type is here listed as a φ type, but I have in my hospital record cabinet that your core is rather a considerably weaker ω type, for one thing, and your core is fully integrated, and releasing enormous amounts of free radical magic into your blood. While you've always had a semi-integrated core- that was likely one of the reasons potions were and are so easy for you, this is enormously different. Have you been practicing a great deal of wandless magic?"

"I have not, no. May I ask what the implications free radical magic might be? I'm afraid I haven't heard of it."

"Your magic is in your bloodstream. It is not substantially dangerous, but it might make your magic more volatile. Wandless and wordless magic will likely be much easier for you now, but your magic overall will take some readjusting. I suggest getting a new wand."

Snape only nodded, and Harry learned from his thoughts that he hasn't gotten a chance to see Ollivander yet; he was evidently still using Bellatrix's wand.

"Not only that," Madame Pomfrey continued, "But your aura is much purer than it used to be, and more powerful, and you have very little magical damage or dark taint. What in Merlin's name happened to you?"

Professor Snape smiled faintly, making him look years younger. "Have you heard of the rite of Flamma Aeterna?"

"The what?"

"The Rite of Flamma Aeterna." Unexpectedly, it was Lucius Malfoy who answered her. "Dear Morgana's tits, is that how you survived?!"

Snape nodded.

"And _Potter_ was the phœnix?"

"Yes," he replied, smirking. He smirked even more when Lucius toppled over backwards in a dead faint.


	10. Discussing Horcruxes

"So what happens now?"

They were once again ensconced in Professor Snape's rooms, sitting across from one another, only this time Snape had allowed the other two members of the Golden Trio into his private chambers- probably the first time in history that the infamous head of Slytherin invited three Gryffindors over for tea and biscuits. Ron was looking around curiously- he probably, like most Gryffindors, assumed that the Potions professor slept in a coffin when he was not in classes. It was probably a genuine shock that his rooms were _not_ green, silver, and decorated with torture devices. Hermione, as Harry by now expected from her, had a muggle notebook and a quill.

"Potter has, I assume, told you the methods that the Dark Lord used to insure his continued existence."

"I don't think so," Hermione said hesitantly. "At least I don't remember. Although to be fair, I was more focused on the fact he had a...piece...of that monster in his scar."

"Fair enough." Snape rubbed his over-sized nose with a sigh, briefly closing his eyes, and Harry sensed through the link the distaste Snape felt at the thought of teaching children- even sixth-years- about the darkest magic to exist. "The one, and greatest fear that the Dark Lord has, although he would probably rather suffer the _crucitus_ than admit it, is death. That is why he is so desperate to kill Potter- because Potter is the only one who truly threatens him. Naturally, being the man he is- if he can be called a man- he delved into dark magic to prolong his life, eventually touching the darkest magic of all- worse even than torture magic. The magic is Czech in origin, and the artifacts so created are called horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?" Hermione said, after a moment. "I don't think I've heard of those." She looked almost affronted at the thought that she had not heard of something.

"Any books mentioning or defining them were removed from the library seventy years ago, when professor Slughorn expressed his concern that Tom Riddle was actually contemplating making one- or, as we found out later, more than one."

"So Voldie made more than one of these horcrux things?" Ron asked.

"Yes. He made seven of them, in fact."

"But what _are_ they, exactly? Are they what's keeping him from dying?"

Snape gave her a small nod of approval. "Yes. Until all of them are destroyed, the Dark Lord will still exist, even if just as a wraith. As to what they are...they are fragments of his soul."

Hermione realized the implications first. "He split his soul into seven pieces!?" she said, going green. "And Harry was one of them!?"

"That's sick!" was Ron's contribution.

"Indeed, Mr. Weasley. And yes, he did," Snape replied, rising and walking over to his cabinet to fetch her a calming drought, which she drank hurriedly, ignoring Ron's hiss of "don't just _drink it_ ," and Snape's subsequent "I assure you I do not poison students, Mr. Weasley, however many headaches they give me."

After a few moments, Hermione calmed down a little, still breathing quickly but less hysteria. "How are they made?" she asked, as her natural curiosity overcame her panic. She picked up the notebook and pen again, putting down the empty vial.

"I...you do not need to know the details. I believe it involves intentional violent murder and a rather gruesome ritual."

Ron gagged, and Harry himself felt rather sick, although he felt more so when the Potion Master's mind elaborated, detailing cannibalism and a few other unsavory aspects of said ritual. Hermione looked as if she almost wanted to know the details just to complete her notes. But before she could ask the question that seemed to be coalescing in her mind, Professor Snape went on.

"In any case, as long as his horcruxes exist, so will the Dark Lord."

"So how can we destroy them- I assume there's a way or you wouldn't have brought it up," Ron asked.

"Very astute, Mr. Weasley. There are several ways to destroy a horcrux: you can use basilisk venom, or fiendfyre, or you could merely hire the goblins to use kobeholdic magics to cleanse the artifact."

"Kobeholdic?" asked Hermione, picking up her quill again.

"Goblin magic. It is a little known fact that goblins have their own distinct type of wandless magic, which can accomplish many things which the most powerful wizard can only dream of. Their language, by the way, is also called kobeholdic, but the first wizard ambassadors, being unable to pronounce it, called it gobbledygook."

Hermione huffed at this, making a few quick sloppy notes, and Harry had a feeling she was going to start SIGR* to go along with SPEW.

"Do you know where the horcruxes are, though? It doesn't help us to know how to destroy them if you don't know what they are, though," Ron asked, seeming to grow bolder in addressing his once-hated teacher.

"Yes," Snape replied. "At least six of them, anyway. And three of those six are already destroyed."

"The diary! No ghost could _possess_ someone, it's not metaphysically possible!" Hermione burst out suddenly. "Harry, didn't you say that you killed the diary with a basilisk tooth?"

"Yeah," was Harry's response. "The diary was one, right?" The second part was directed to Snape.

"Yes. So, of course, was your scar, and I told you last night that Dumbledore found the Gaunt family ring, which he destroyed, although not without foolishly putting it on."

"Is that what burnt his hand then?" asked Hermione.

Snape heaved a long sigh. "Yes. Heaven only knows why he would attempt to do so- either it was laden with compulsions or he is more senile than I gave him credit for. But he managed to destroy the horcrux within it without collapsing."

"Collapsing?! Is he ok?"

"No," replied Snape bluntly. "Although it could be worse, considering that until the Rite I had been oath-bound to kill him myself- thank Isis that Flamma Aeterna breaks unbreakable vows."

"It what?" "You what?" "Dumbledore is dying?" echoed from three distinct throats.

"Yes, yes, and yes," Snape replied tiredly. "I have no idea how the vow was broken, but it was- I can only assume that to be resurrected you must first die. The unbreakable vow was forced on me by Bellatrix and Narcissa- let me tell you, you do not want to refuse powerful witches."

Despite the seriousness of the topic, the boys couldn't help giggling and shooting glances at Hermione, who blushed and resolutely looked down at her notes.

"As for Dumbledore, I have delayed the spread of the curse, but unless I can work a miracle in the lab, he only has within a year."

This sobered the trio.

"Speaking of that, do you think I could help? With phoenix magic?"

"I do not know, although it probably couldn't make it any worse if you attempted it," Snape responded. "But at the moment we have other things to discuss."

"Like the rest of those horrible soul-pieces," said Ron at the same time as Hermione commented: "Shouldn't we try to come up with a cure first?"

"As much as I hate to say it, we do have to discuss horcruxes first; the Dark Lord is top priorty," Snape said reluctantly. "He has to go."

"So what are they- do you know?" Ron asked.

"Yes- Dumbledore does- sometimes- share his plans with me, and, more importantly, I was in the Dark Lord's inner circle. Bellatrix often boasts of her loyalty to the Dark Lord when drunk at revels- that was how I learned that one was Hufflepuff's cup. And of course I was there when Regulus was found to be a traitor. Regulus had told me of a locket laced with dark magic and the Dark Lord's signature before, but I had no idea what it was until I mentioned the locket in passing to Dumbledore, who had his own suspicions. The last two are the Dark Lord's infernal snake and something of Ravenclaw's, which is hidden somewhere in the castle. Dumbledore won't tell me what it is- something about not wanting the Dark Lord to torture the fact Dumbledore knew his secret out of me. Which is absurd, considering that I spied on him for a year before his first defeat and then ever since and he never even noticed I had occlumensy shields up, never mind tried to break them." He fell silent at that, and there was no sound but the continual scratching of Hermione's _lite-ink_ quill on muggle paper.

"Do you know where they are?" Ron asked at last, as the silence was threatening to grow still more awkward.

"The snake Nagini is always with the Dark Lord- he almost cared for her in his twisted way, if only because she is part of his soul. We can probably get her on a raid, or perhaps if he sends her out on a mission.

"The locker was, I believe, stolen from it's hiding place, as Regulus was nearly killed by the _inferi_ guarding it, eventually to be destroyed by the Dark Lord himself when he came to see who was tampering with the defenses- I was there when he was...executed." Snape swallowed hard. "As for the locket, I saw it in Grimmauld Place; it should still be there unless that bastard Mundungus- excuse my language- pocketed it along with the other things he keeps trying to steal.

"Hufflepuff's cup is probably going to be the hardest to get- up to and including the yet-unknown one- since according to Bellatrix it is in her private vault, if she was telling the truth. And considering how intoxicated she was, I am rather inclined to believe her."

"So we've already got the ring, the scar, and the diary, and we have to find a locket, a chalice, and a pet snake, along with some unidentified Founders' object hidden in Hogwarts?" Hermione recapped.

"Yes," was Snape's reply.

"So how are we going to get these things?" Ron asked.

Hermione paused to scribble a little more in her notebook. "And what's fiendfyre?"

"Fiendfyre is cursed fire which can destroy pretty much anything," Snape replied, "And the snake, as I have said before, will have to be snatched on a raid. The house elves can probably be enlisted to find the Founders' object; they know everything that goes on in the castle and they'll likely be willing to help. The locket, if it is not still at Grimmauld, will be a bit difficult, but I can probably threaten Dung or talk to a few contacts in Knock Turn Alley to get it back. The chalice will likely be the hardest."

"But we can still get it, right?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"Yes. Probably. If Black were still alive, he could just use Power of Attorney over her vaults- it is after all, in her own personal familial vault- and just take it. As it is, since he left his old will, which states that Potter is heir if the list of people he named previously were dead, Potter would have to wait until he is seventeen to be able to do the same, so that is out. And we're not breaking into Gringotts."

"Wait, hold on!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm Sirius's _heir_?"

Snape frowned. "You were never told? Albus said that you did not want to assume your duties because the mutt's death was too fresh, and he's been handling your duties and proxies on the Wizengamot and such."

Harry stared at him. "He what? I never even knew there _was_ a will, especially not one making me the Black heir. And Dumbledore never told me anything about duties, except the fact that I have to kill Voldie or die trying."

Snape pinched his nose, and Harry had the unnerving privilege of being momentarily sucked into his mind before he managed to implement his new method of occlusion. "Right. Albus _would_ do something like that. Probably wanted you to "enjoy your childhood" or some such rubbish. I _did_ wonder why you were not at the reading..."

"What reading?"

"The will reading. I was required to be there." He sighed. "My bequest turned my robes into red and gold drag for a week- it would seem Black wanted to get one last prank in." He paused. "I had to request a portkey out of Gringotts."

All three Gryffindors couldn't help laughing, even though Snape scowled at them for it. Hermione at least tried to hide it.

"But it is disturbing that Albus never even mentioned the will to you," he continued, after they had sobered a little. "I wonder what else he "forgot" to mention."

Hermione turned the page of her notebook, evidently wanting to make a note. "But Professor Dumbledore aside, how are we going to get that chalice?" she continued after she had stopped writing.

"Well, there is a possibility that the goblins would give it to us- for the right price," Ron said, shocking all of them. "Bill- he's a Gringotts curse-breaker- says that there are some treaties that actually cancel client confidentiality. Of someone suspects someone of having really dark artifacts in their vault- like, dark with a capital "D" stuff, the goblins can authorize a search. If there _isn't_ actually a really dark artifact in the vault, or something unrelated to the search turns up missing after they've let you in to search, then you have to pay a serious fine for breaching privacy and making them go to all that trouble."

"Do you know if a horcrux counts as one of those super-dark artifacts? I mean, they might have different rules..." Hermione said.

Snape shook his head. "It was forbidden even to say the word 'horcrux' in goblin territory. They're very sore about the subject since 1495, when Scarth Bluetooth was possessed by the horcrux of a wizard named Harold Toth. Sparked the Third Goblin War."

"Whoa, how did you know that?! Sir," Ron added after a pause.

"I actually listened in History. Shocking, I know, but I actually grew so bored playing naughts and crosses with Wilkes and Rosier that I actually began paying attention."

Harry snorted, and the other two stared, unused to seeing this side of their fearsome teacher. Ron in particular looked like his entire worldview- Slytherins are evil or at least just nasty gits- had been turned on its head.

"So there's a chance we could just get the goblins to hand it over? To us, and not the aurors?"

"They wouldn't give it to the aurors unless the ministry forced them," Snape responded. "And since the ministry doesn't even know that he _has_ horcruxes, except maybe the Department of Mysteries..."

"But...maybe...shouldn't we involve the aurors? I mean, the ministry could help..." Hermione shrunk under the looks that the others were giving her.

"Do ministry and help ever fit together in the same sentence?" Harry asked. "They would either deny it or start panicking and making everyone else panic, intentionally or not, with the possible exception of the Department of Mysteries which probably does know, but is more focussed on trying to rebuild all the timeturners we smashed last year."

"...The timeturners you smashed?" Snape said after a moment. "When did that happen?"

"It was at the DOM last year- we managed to totally destroy the Time Room on our way to the Hall of Prophecy since we were being chased by Death Eaters."

Snape shook his head in a manner that one might almost call "fond" of one didn't know that Severus Snape didn't _do_ fond. "We will discuss your tendencies for excessive rule-breaking and accidents which could potentially cause the world as we know it to ceise to exist another time." He said at last. "For now, we have to plan the takedown of my old boss, and then you have homework."

" _I_ don't," said Hermione smugly, as the two boys groaned. "So can I help you hunt horcruxes?"

"You can help search for the one in Hogwarts, as I am not allowed to take you off the grounds without written permission from both the headmaster and your parents. I will, meanwhile, attempt to locate the locket and negotiate with the goblins. The snake will have to wait. Now go- I assume you have planned for a suitable excuse?"

"Fred and George are distracting everyone who asked, and I got Neville and Seamus to say Harry wasn't feeling well and 'Mione and I had a date for snogging in a closet." Ron flinched as Hermione fixed a steely gaze on him.

"You never told me that?!"

"I needed something believable and something they wouldn't question," Ron protested, looking a little scared. "I couldn't just say, 'Oh, we're having tea and biscuits with the head of Slytherin house, now, could I?"

"You could have _told_ me you were going to use _me_ as an excuse!" she retorted, and both boys edged a little farther away. Professor Snape's lips were twitching with amusement.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione, I didn't think!"

"No, you didn't," she agreed. "I think now you ought to be _punished_."

Harry edged farther away, blushing furiously, and Professor Snape banished the tea tray. Hermione and Ron were still staring at each other. That was until Professor Snape cleared his throat, and they both broke eye contact, turning an identical red, as if they had been drenched in paint.

"I do believe that dinner is in twenty minutes, and I doubt you'd want to miss it."

As if on cue, Ron's stomach growled. "Um, yeah, absolutely," he said, hastily composing himself. "Yeah. We should probably go." He was still looking at Hermione.

"Thanks for the tea, professor," Hermione said pointedly, shoving her quill and notebook into her bag.

"Yeah, uh, thanks," Ron repeated, looking, for once, too flustered to hurry to dinner. Harry grinned at the backs of the two of them and thanked Snape as well, before following them out the door.

"Ron, we're not done," was all Hermione said as they left Professor Snape's rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * SIRG is the Society for Improved Relations with Goblins


	11. Severus Finds His Wings

Severus was very pleased with himself on that particular evening. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had found the diadem of Ravenclaw in the Room of Requirements, with the help of several house elves and the eccentric Luna Lovegood, and said diadem was now resting in a heavily warded velvet case in Severus's office, awaiting transportation to Gringotts to be cleansed. Not only that, but one of his contacts in Knock Turn Alley had gotten back to him about the locket- it would seem that it was currently in Dolores Umbridge's possession, and Severus felt sure he could get her in trouble for having it in her possession. To improve matters still further, he had spoken to his account manager about the chalice, and the news was heartening- while it was by no means a done deal, Grimstock had agreed to have it investigated, with the agreement that if said chalice was found the fine for possession of a horcrux would be taken from the Lestrange vault (although Severus _had_ had to bribe him with a very good pay raise). All in all, the only thing he had left to do that night was attend a staff meeting that Dumbledore had called earlier that day and do some grading- no torture, horcrux destruction or occlumensy lessons planned.

A rare smile hovered over his lips as he sat, grading defense essays (which seemed, unusually, actually relatively cogent...was he going soft?) and enjoying a glass of red wine.

At last, Severus cast a _tempus_ , wondering why his alarm hadn't gone off, and with a shock, realized that he had not actually set the aforementioned alarm, and that he had three minutes to get to the staff room. So he rose from the armchair he had been working on his 3rd year essays in and left his chambers, locking and warding the door behind him, and headed to the staff room.

He was late, and Dumbledore was already speaking. "There will also be a Halloween masquerade, open to all years. I would like Professors Sprout and Flitwick and anyone who wants to volunteer to chaperone."

"The Inner Eye sees that that is a fabulous idea," said Trelawny dreamily. Severus managed not to roll his eyes, but only just.

"And now that we're all here," Dumbledore continued, his voice going grave, "I have a very important announcement to make."

A shiver ran down Severus's spine. He had a horrible feeling that he knew what that announcement would be, even though it _couldn't_ be what he thought...

"This summer I was cursed with _languesco mortis_."

Severus made a low choking noise which he would later fervently deny. Septima's hands flew to her mouth, and Babbling, who was the most proficient of all of them in Latin, gave a little gasp as she figured it out.

"As there is no cure accessible, my original plan was to keep it quiet so as not to cause the students to panic or word to reach Voldemort, and it was agreed between Severus and I" (all eyes flew to the youngest staff member) "that should I be cornered by Death Eaters he would kill me himself to rise in Voldemort's good graces and prevent someone who preferred the more...messy curses from doing the job."

Severus shrank back, hearing Albus reveal the plans that he had forced on him, and knowing the conclusions that his colleagues would jump to.

"But now that he is no longer a spy, I felt that the secret no longer needed to be kept from you, although I trust that it will go no further. The fact remains that I will die before the year's out."

"There is a cure," Severus protested, desperation in his tone, remembering the arguments that he had had with his mentor. "Or the salve- if you would allow me to prepare it..."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "It would be useless to waste so much phoenix ash on an old man like me, and I would still be dependent on it for the rest of my life. I'm simply not that valuable."

Tears shimmered in several of the witches' eyes, and Severus himself could feel his throat choking up, his body trembling. A strange warmth was filling him, but that could have had to do with the emotion he was suppressing, or with the fact that Harry, listening in on his thoughts, was attempting to comfort him. Hagrid was crying unashamedly from his usual seat.

"But you have Fawkes!" protested Charity Burbage. "Couldn't he give you the ash?"

"He does not burn more than twice a year," the headmaster responded. "And I would not selfishly ask him to give me more than he already is. He already burned twice this year, and I know how painful it is. Besides, Severus was forced into an unbreakable vow. He would die if I did not. I simply tell you this now so that you will understand when the time comes, and so that you will not condemn him."

Severus stared numbly at the man, as his most shameful duty was revealed to the staff who had once trusted him. Something seemed to flutter within him, struggling to escape. "No. I will not do it," he rasped at last. "Not when there is a cure. I would die, if I had to."

"But your Unbreakable Vow-"

"Is broken," Severus responded forcefully, as though something were tugging the words from him. All of the other staff stared at him, disbelieving.

"How-"

To all those watching him, the Potion Master's thin face seemed to be suddenly almost luminous in the guttering torchlight. "Never mind how. All you need to know is that you needn't die out of some mistaken obligation."

Dumbledore stared at him, blue eyes wide.

"I _will_ cure you," Severus said forcefully, almost not aware of what he was saying with the sudden warm, peaceful fire rising in his chest. "There is no need for this." And then he took a step forward, and then another, not even aware of anything but the need to help. Though he was not aware of it himself, the other staff members, and Dumbledore himself, felt a sudden rush of awe, for the normally hate-filled or anguished black eyes were flecked with a sort of celestial silver, and a pale, swirling silver haze, like the mist of a half-formed patronus rose around him, arcing about him on both sides like the wings of Isis. Or of a phoenix.

Still trembling from the weight of that instinctual power, Severus took the old man's hand in his own, fingers running over that blackened flesh. And then something seemed to surge within him, tearing through him with it's overwhelming power, and silver fire gushed from his hands as surely as the low moan torn from him at the pain of the wild magic bursting through his skin. Silver haze shimmered around him, and stars and blazing geometric shapes written in white fire swam in his vision. He could distantly hear Dumbledore's screams as the fire sank into his skin, could, as if I'm a dream, feel the hands tugging at his robes as one of his colleagues tried to pull him away from Albus.

The world was spinning. A strange sort of blissful clarity washed over him in waves, even through the pain, his consciousness fading in and out. And the he felt something snap, something give, and he could almost feel the curse that had taken hold of his mentor's hand give way under the onslaught of the pure magic, ruthlessly rooted out and destroyed. And then the heat, which had already been sizzling uncomfortably hot inside him, burst into agonizing but pure silver fire, leaking out through his pores in little dribbles of pure light, and he collapsed into nothingness with a little gasp of pain.

* * *

Harry was, for once, in the library. Ron and Hermione were going around the castle looking for the Ravenclaw horcrux, as well as using said horcrux hunt as an excuse to snog, which was why Harry had tacitly uninvited himself when the sexual tension was getting a bit too much. Now, he was curled in the spot he usually claimed when he went to the library (usually to be alone more than to actually read as it was a nook at the very back, concealed by a blind of bookshelves like trees in a forest) distracted only by the occasional murmering of voices from the pair of Hufflepuffs studying in the alcove nearby and the occasional trickle of rare contentment from Professor Snape, as well as from the illusory taste of wine in the back of his throat.

He abstractly scribbled something about temperature charms for Professor Flitwick and sighed, unable to really focus on the dry textbook and the lukewarm topic, and found himself, instead, listening in on Snape's rambling thoughts:

_Dear Merlin, an I going soft or has Miss McKinnon actually written a proper essay? Ahh, that's more like it. There's no mugwart in Shrinking Solution, as it is a reactive herb. Still, the theory_ would _be sound if thistle flower didn't react in the way she postulates..._

_What_ is _that idiot thinking! In third year and he doesn't know a bezoir from a besoin..._

_Did I just give Miss Granger an O?_

And then: _Oh, Morgana's underpants, I'm late! I did set that alarm- why didn't it go off? I did, didn't I?_

Harry smirked and refocused on his assignment with some difficulty, talking about the differences in the tonal qualities and pronunciation of the incantations for freezing charms and cooling charms, while meanwhile Snape rushed through the halls, on the way to a staff meeting.

Harry was abruptly startled out of his studying by a flash of apprehension from Professor Snape. Harry straightened, putting down the Charms text again. It seemed Snape was having difficulties blocking him- again- and he couldn't study like this, so he might as well make sure the man was ok. With that in mind, he focused more closely in on the staff meeting, feeling a secret sort of guilty excitement for listening in. He _was_ rather curious.

"This summer I was cursed with _languesco mortis_ ," Dumbledore was saying. So that was the name of the curse. Harry could feel the rush of anguish and fear and pain rushing from the Potions Master at this and tried to calm him. There was nothing the man could have done better.

"As there is no cure accessible, my original plan was to keep it quiet so as not to cause the students to panic or word to reach Voldemort, and it was agreed between Severus and I" (all eyes flew to the youngest staff member) "that should I be cornered by Death Eaters he would kill me himself to rise in Voldemort's good graces and prevent someone who preferred the more...messy curses from doing the job."

_fear/guilt/self-flagellation/grief_

"But now that he is no longer a spy, I felt that the secret no longer needed to be kept from you, although I trust that it will go no further. The fact remains that I will die before the year's out."

"There is a cure," Snape protested, and Harry could feel his desperation, see glimpses of memories of trying his hardest to save him, to develop a cure. "Or the salve- if you would allow me to prepare it..."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "It would be useless to waste so much phoenix ash on an old man like me, and I would still be dependent on it for the rest of my life. I'm simply not that valuable."

Tears welled in Harry's eyes, though he could sense that the emotion was not entirely his own- indeed, Snape was nearly beside himself. Harry hastily began to send him waves of peace, compassion and comfort, trying to calm him and ease his suffering, at least a little. It was at that moment that he began to sense the warm, powerful, healing phœnix magic what he had recently become familiar with. What now? There was no one around to be healed, unless...Dumbledore?! Harry felt, for the first time, the stirrings of hope. Maybe there was something they could do with phœnix magic that would work where nothing else did.

"But you have Fawkes!" protested a woman whom Harry vaguely recognized as the Muggle Studies teacher, Professor something Burbage. "Couldn't he give you the ash?"

"He does not burn more than twice a year," Professor Dumbledore responded. "And I would not selfishly ask him to give me more than he already is. He already burned twice this year, and I know how painful it is. Besides, Severus was forced into an unbreakable vow. He would die if I did not. I simply tell you this now so that you will understand when the time comes, and so that you will not condemn him."

_anguish/gratitude/anger/numbness_

Professor Snape was afraid, afraid of what his colleagues would do to him for accepting that duty, and Harry almost began to cry again on feeling that. Snape's sense of self worth, at least when his impeccable mental shields were down, was next to nothing, and the irrational thought of being only tolerated by his colleagues, especially in an otherwise rational man, was heartbreaking.

Besides that, Harry could feel the wild magic rising, sensing the healing magic throbbing through his veins, invisible insects fluttering in his chest and stomach and magic collecting just under his skin. But something was different. The magic did not feel like _his_ at all- his phœnix magic felt, at least to him, like warm, slippery green growing things in a forest canopy, vast, vibrant, self-regenerating, and very, very _alive_ , carrying a spicy tint, too. This felt more like coffee and cream, or hot chocolate by the fire, or the warm darkness of one's own bedroom at night. What was going on?

But Snape was speaking again. "No. I will not do it," he rasped at last. "Not when there is a cure. I would die, if I had to."

Dumbledore seemed to be incredulous, as well he might be. "But your Unbreakable Vow-"

"Is broken," Snape responded forcefully, as though something were tugging the words from him. All of the other staff were staring at him in bewilderment.

"How-" Dumbledore began.

The magic churning in their connected cores began to rise, washing the room in warm, rich magic. Harry felt something deep within his core give a little twist as Professor Snape went on. "Never mind how. All you need to know is that you needn't die out of some mistaken obligation."

Dumbledore stared at him, crystal blue eyes wide in disbelief.

"I _will_ cure you," Severus said forcefully, and Harry was almost overcome by his emotions and the rich phœnix magic bubbling just under his skin."There is no need for this." and then Harry felt that little twist and tug in his core again, and magic began draining out of him through the bond. Harry was alarmed. He tried to fight it, but Snape didn't even seem to notice his resistance, much like when Harry himself was overcome by his phœnix instincts. And so Harry slumped in his chair.

Magic drained out of him, and all he could feel was Snape's frothing emotions, peace and panic at one and the same time, and all he could hear was Dumbledore's screams ringing in his ears and it hurt so, so much...

And then the world was spinning as more and more of his core was siphoned off by the bond, and the searing pain, worse than the crucitus, had taken over his body entirely. .

The world was spinning. A strange sort of blissful clarity washed over him in waves, even through the pain, his consciousness fading in and out. And the he felt something snap, something give, and he could almost feel the curse that Snape was trying to break give way. And then the heat, which had already been sizzling uncomfortably hot inside him, burst into an agonizing flameless burning sensation, and he fell into darkness, having no more magic to support himself.


	12. An Unspeakable Mess

Severus woke, once again, in the hospital wing. At least that's where he thought he was. He could smell the astringent scent of antiseptic and the cool herbal odor of medical potions- probably medical potions that he had brewed himself. He was not, for once, in pain, but he was exhausted and relaxed, to the extent that he did not even want to open his eyes (although the bright lights and sterile white walls of the hospital wing may have had something to do with that). Around him he could hear voices, fading in and out.

"...never seen anything like it..."

"...wild magic..."

"There's no cure...the impossible..."

"...okay?"

"Nothing a good rest...cure... core...exhaustion..."

Hmm. It wasn't exactly easy to think in his condition, but from what he had overheard, (and the condition his body seemed to be in) he guessed that whatever had happened had to do with accidental or experimental magic, rather than Death Eaters or a potions accident. But what could have affected him like this? He wanted to know, but the lethargy creeping through his veins was slowly overpowering him, and within a few moments he drifted back into unconsciousness, and into dreams of flight without a broom and silver fire washing over him, warm as bathwater.

When he woke again, the first thing he heard was loud voices. Loud, discordant, arguing voices.

"Professor Snape is very ill and recovering from magical exhaustion. Whatever you want to talk about can wait!" Ahh, Madame Pomfrey. Severus smiled faintly against his will, knowing from experience how stubborn she was about visitors. Not that he particularly felt up to visitors. Who would be visiting him in the hospital wing, anyway?

"We have a ministry warrent; move aside, woman,"

 _Wait, what?_ Severus threw all of his admittedly weak energies into focussing. _There's a ministry warrent for my arrest?_

"Now, gentlemen, surely it can wait until Severus is conscious?" That sounded like Albus, but why did he sound so young? Severus did his best to open his eyes, but the light out the wing, once again, was too bright, and he let his head sink back into the pillow again, and his eyes fall shut.

"Enough," broke in another voice, and Severus felt a shiver run down his spine. Said voice had no pitch and no tone; it was just empty.

"Who the Hell are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. Dawlish, Rookwood, move aside. We'll take this from here."

"Sir, we have a ministry approved warrent for the detention of Severus Tobias Snape, and-"

"Move aside. I need to speak to him."

"Who do you think you are?"

"I am Unspeakable F259. Now let me do my job."

"Please, gentlemen-"

An Unspeakable?! _Oh, dear Merlin help me,_ Severus thought, trying desperately to open his eyes. It was never a good thing when the Unspeakables got involved. If he could only remember what had happened to him! Something about Albus's cursed hand...why couldn't he remember?

_"Professor Snape? Are you ok?"_

Severus was admittedly startled. It sounded like Potter, but he did not seem to be speaking aloud. Wait...Potter. Mind. Mindlink. The rite of Flamma Aeterna! Memories rushed back in a torrent, making his head pound horribly and nausea rise in his gut, and suddenly he remembered the awesome, pure feeling of silver fire rushing through his veins, the look of pain and awe on Albus's face as he dissolved the curse, the magic tingling in the air...he had a feeling he knew why the aurors and Unspeakables were here, too. _"I've...been better, Harry, but I'm not at the point of death or anything. Although I do wish that everyone would wait until I'm well enough to sit up to bother me and try to arrest me."_

_"Try to arrest you?!"_

_"I expect that someone discovered the paperwork documenting the Triple Bonding of the Savior of the Wizarding World to a Death Eater old enough to be his father and made some assumptions."_

_"And they're just going to arrest you? While you are ill?"_

_"Illness doesn't seem to be an excuse under this regime, and it hasn't been for some time."_

_"That's absurd! Hang on, I'm coming through."_

_"Coming through?"_

_"I think I've found a way to flame without even bothering to change forms."_ And before Severus could even so much as try to stop the dunderhead from trying out yet another form of experimental magic, there was a blaze of light Severus could see even through his closed eyelids and a shiver of magic, accompanied by several startled gasps. Severus sat up, head spinning, and tried to open his eyes.

He instantly crumpled back against his pillow, sinking back into the bed and inadvertently attracting the attention of the rest of the witches and wizards in the room. Madame Pomfrey tried to make her way towards him, only to be shoved aside by an auror. The Unspeakable, who had been looking at Harry, turned towards him at once, and a young man with auburn hair and a slightly frustrated expression tried to calm everyone else down, and was ignored.

"Mr. Snape, we need you to answer a few questions, in the interests of our department," the Unspeakable said gravely as Severus blinked like a mole in the sunlight.

"I...is there any possible chance you could wait?" Severus was shocked at how hoarse his voice was. "I...am not at all well."

"No, you may not wait. Firstly, how did you cure the _languesco mortis_ curse, and how did you deage Albus Dumbledore?"

"I what!?" Severus choked.

"Answer us."

"I have no idea how I cured the curse, and I was not aware that the primal magic had any other effects," Severus managed, closing his eyes briefly. He knew he could not lie or refuse to answer; the Unspeakables were like the muggle CIA, and it would not be good for his health to refuse them. "It was accidental."

The Unspeakable did not seem convinced, but then, Severus could not see his face under his charmed and warded hood, and he didn't exactly know the man's? feelings for certain.

"And how did you break an Unbreakable Vow?"

"I died," responded Severus quietly. "I died and was reborn as a result of the Rite of _Flamma Aeterna_."

There were several gasps from those who understood exactly what said rite was.

"What other unusual effects resulted from the ritual?"

"What effects _didn't_?" responded the Potions Master.

"Answer the question," said the Unspeakable threateningly.

"Very well. Considering that the phœnix was also an animagus, it caused a latent Sacred Triple Bond and changed a number of my vital signs- you can look over my medical scans for that. It also stripped my Dark Mark entirely." Severus's head fell back onto the pillow again.

"What do you mean the phœnix was also an animagus?"

"Exactly what he said," broke in another voice. The Unspeakable whirled around.

"Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," was the response, although even Severus could see that the boy certainly did not reassemble the old Harry Potter. He had shoulder-length messy black hair and no scar, and in addition, he was floating about three inches off the ground, and hadn't appeared to have noticed it yet. "I'm a phœnix animagus, although I haven't had a chance to be registered yet."

"Forgive me if I need some proof, Mr. Potter," said the Unspeakable.

Harry shifted into a phœnix and back, and all the adults who hasn't seen it before startled.

"I...see. So did you notice any unusual effects of the ritual?"

"Well, my scar was burnt away, along with the dark magic attached to it. That's just about all on my side."

"I see. Very well. I'm afraid that you both are to come with me. We have to do some experiments."

"Wait, what are you-" the auror who had spoken was summarily silenced. So was Dumbledore when he tried to defend his student and staff member, and Madame Pomfrey when she tried to refuse.

And that was when Harry's magic exploded outward. "I don't know who you are or what authority you think you have, but you are not moving the professor while he's ill, and I don't particularly like the idea of going with you to be experimented on, either."

"Harry..." Severus rasped. Harry ignored him.

"Get out."

"Mr. Potter-"

"Get out."

The Unspeakable took a threatening step closer. Harry narrowed his eyes, flicking a wrist. And the Unspeakable vanished into thin air. Harry took three or four deep breaths and slumped back against Severus's bed.

"Great," he slurred, green eyes fluttering shut. "I think I made another enemy."

* * *

Harry awoke, once again, in the hospital wing. For a moment, he had no idea what had happened to him. Then it all came rushing back. Professor Snape had accidentally drained his core trying to heal Dumbledore; whether or not he had succeeded was more than Harry knew. Which means that he must have collapsed from magical exhaustion. Was Dumbledore ok? Or Snape? He tried to sit up, but instantly Madame Pomfrey was there, gently but firmly pressing him down.

"Rest, Mr. Potter, your core is quite depleted."

"'Fessor Snape? Dumblesdore?" Harry was rather annoyed to note how slurred his voice turned out to be, and how heavy his eyelids felt as he tried to look around the familiar white hospital wing.

"Professor Snape has magical exhaustion, but he will recover. So will you if you'll just take it easy."

There was not much else Harry could do. "Dumbledore?" he asked again. Madame Pomfrey looked about to reply, but at that moment, a young man entered the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey instantly went over to shoo him out, which gave Harry an opportunity to inspect the man. Why did he look so familiar? And then it hit him. Auburn hair. Twinkling blue eyes. Dark plum-coloured robes with orange and magenta astrological signs.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he breathed, unable to believe it. However, evidently his old mentor had heard him, because he turned around.

"Harry! You're awake?"

Wow. He even sounded younger. "I-Professor, what happened?"

Dumbledore blinked. "I am still not entirely sure what happened. Severus attempted some experimental magic to heal the curse that had withered my hand, and it seemed to have more than one unusual side effect."

Harry's eyes widened. Experimental magic. He had known that Professor Snape had tried to use phœnix magic, but even he, with his experience using the strange type of healing magic, had had no idea that de-aging was possible. "Flamma Aeterna?" He muttered, already trying to see what had happened exactly and how, through his slightly distorted memory of the impromptu ritual. "But wait, how does that work? I mean, Snape's still human, so it would necessarily have different effects..."

Dumbledore was staring at him. "Harry? You seem to know what is happening."

Harry hesitated. It wasn't that he did not want to tell his one-time mentor the secret, but he still wasn't sure if he could trust him not to use his unique talent for 'the Greater Good'. Although if the phoenix magic hadn't killed him, then he had been judged worthy, hadn't he? "I do, some," he settled for replying. "But I'm not the only one involved, and it's not really all my secret to keep." he paused, at this juncture, and picked up a box of chocolate frogs by his bed, probably left by some of his friends or admirers, tearing it open with nimble fingers and removing one of the packages. Then he slowly began to strip it open.

"I see." Dumbledore looked rather disappointed, but seemed content to leave it at that, for now. After all, Harry was still recovering from an extreme case of magical exhaustion himself. He looked as though he were about to go on, or change the subject, when Madame Pomfrey stalked over.

"Your fifteen minutes is up," she informed the headmaster sourly. "Mr. Potter needs to rest, and you have to take your potions."

"Yes ma'am," Dumbledore replied, seeming rather amused.

At that, Madame Pomfrey bustled over to the medicine cabinet and pulled out two phials, one filled with acid green liquid and one containing a thick golden fluid. She handed both potions to the headmaster, who hastily drank them, called: "thank you, Poppy," and left the hospital wing in a hurry, as if he was no more excited to be there than Harry himself.

Harry sank back on his pillows again and fell asleep.

Harry woke much later in the day, so late that the evening sun was already filtering in through the hospital wing window, to hear Ron and Hermione arguing with the mediwitch. "Please, Madame Pomfrey! At least let us see him for fifteen minutes!"

"Mr. Potter is recovering from severe magical exhaustion," was her acerbic response. "You may leave whatever get well notes and confections that the Gryffindor house has for him, but he is not ready for any kind of conversation, at least not yet. Perhaps for a few minutes tomorrow afternoon..."

Harry could almost feel their hesitation, but at last he heard the thumps and rustles that betrayed the packages and notes that they were evidently dropping off for him, and his heart warmed. Then he heard the matron shooing his friends away, and at last there was again silence, broken only by Madame Pomfrey bustling about in her stores and her office as usual. The rest of the evening passed in the same way, just listening, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The next day he was more coherent, and a good deal more bored. Madame Pomfrey allowed his friends to stay- this time- and so he listened to Hermione's excited rendition of a particularly good DADA class- apparently Kingsley Shacklebolt was substituting- and listened to Ron talk about the Chudley Cannons, who had apparently nearly won their last game. But at last, he felt himself well enough to get down to business.

"So what's going on?" Harry asked at last.

His two friends tensed. "What do you mean, what's going on?" asked Ron after a moment. "We've just been telling you, you daft git!"

"I mean, do you know what happened to Dumbledore? And is Snape ok?"

"Dumbledore announced that he'd run afoul of an unexpected side affect of an experimental potion," Hermione told him. "I pretty much guessed there was more to it than that, but he hasn't elaborated. The Ministry and the Department of Mysteries are hoping to get involved and figure it out, but he's pulling a lot of strings to keep them from getting involved. At least that's what we think is going on. Obviously we won't know the whole story unless he decides to tell us. As for Professor Snape, Dumbledore was telling everyone that he was down with dragonpox and quarantined, but I'm guessing there's more to that, too, especially since you are in the hospital wing. He did something, didn't he?"

Harry nodded. "As far as I know, he tried to heal Dumbledore's hand and ended up de-aging him and draining his core in the process. And mine, since we're connected and all that. But what business does the ministry have trying to get involved?"

"The Department of Mysteries isn't just a magical science department," said Ron at last. "It's like...what did you call it, 'Mione?"

"The CIA. Basically, they have a classified budget, no higher ups, and no restrictions outside the DOM itself. They're probably going to be trouble, actually...I'm reading up on it- Dumbledore let me access his personal library, ostensibly for research, and what I've learned...it's pretty disturbing. If you're a magical anomaly that they think is important, they just take you with them, and it's a toss-up whether anyone will ever see you again. Luckily, though, the ICU has a little control over their external business, and since Dumbledore's head of that, he can keep them off for a bit. But Harry, they're going to want to talk to you, maybe even do more than that. There hasn't been a truly powerful magical animagus since the Founders, and there's never been a phoenix. Most magical animagi are things like crups or nifflers or snidgets or things, and even now they are extraordinarily unusual."

"Say that in English?" asked Ron weakly.

Hermione huffed. "Right. The DOM is going to want to study Harry, they probably aren't going to take no for an answer, they might be really invasive, and nobody really has any control over them; even the ICU can't do much than stall them."

Harry swallowed hard. "And Snape? And what about Dumbledore?"

"Probably in trouble too," said Hermione reluctantly. "Promise me you won't give them any grief? It'll only make it harder."

"You mean he should promise not to defend himself?!" Ron burst out.

"No, of course not, just promise not to go looking for trouble. Harry, I...I don't want you to be hurt."

"I promise," Harry told her. "But if they try to take me or Snape away, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to berate him as to that course of action, but at that moment Madame Pomfrey called "Time's up," and the two Gryffindors reluctantly left Harry alone, to chew on that.

Harry was let out of the hospital wing the next afternoon, accompanied by Madame Pomfrey's strict injunction that he come straight back if he had a headache or experienced dizziness or asthma, which he ignored, and although he was technically excused from classes for the next two days, he sat in on a seventh-year DADA class (he had already missed today's class in his own form) and then calmly went down to dinner.

That evening, he had his first taste of the menace that Unspeakables could be. He was just sitting in his usual place at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by Ron, Hermione, and Neville, who were trying to block all the nearest seats, as Colin Creevy was hanging around with his camera, and he had just lifted a spoonful of treakle tart to his lips when the doors of the Great Hall flew open, and a man in long dark robes with a hooded face stepped into the hall. Harry had a horrible feeling about this...

"I have need of one Harry Potter and one Albus Dumbledore," he announced in a hollow and toneless voice as soon as he approached the head table.

"Who are you?" Minerva Mcgonagall said archly, but Harry already felt that he knew, even before the man replied with Unspeakable "U505".

In the end, that day, Dumbledore managed to fend the man off, actually using the power of Hogwarts herself to throw him out, but Harry knew that that would not stop a wizard whose entire department dealt with the unknowable and the unknown; he probably knew four or five different ways to get back in again, wards or no. And so he waited worriedly for the other shoe to drop, enduring the whispers of his classmates that an Unspeakable had actually called for him specifically, and going back to the hospital wing to sit with Professor Snape at every opportunity when he was not in classes, doing homework, or socializing with Gryffindor at large. But always, he knew that the Unspeakables were going to come back. It was only a matter of time.

Time indeed. It was, in fact, the very next day- a Wednesday- when another Unspeakable arrived to stick his unknowable nose into Harry's business. Harry had been seated on his bed in his dorm, revising with Dean and Neville (Ron was off snogging Hermione under the blanket excuse of research) when Harry felt a sudden, unexpected rush of fear and annoyance- and pain, in his brain. It was Snape!

Harry was vastly relieved, even if he was worried about what was upsetting his professor; he hadn't been able to feel him for nearly a solid week. Oh, dear Merlin help me, he heard, then, accompanied by a feeling of helplessness and the terrifying sensation of being unable to open his eyes, and unable to remember, and his relief was immediately doused. What was wrong?

"Professor Snape? Are you ok?" he sent.

He got back a rush of startlement, confusion, fear, and dawning understanding, accompanied by several memories from Snape's point of view and a vague feeling of nausea and headache. "I've...been better, Harry, but I'm not at the point of death or anything. Although I do wish that everyone would wait until I'm well enough to sit up to bother me and try to arrest me."

"Try to arrest you?!" Why on earth would they do that, unless Voldemort wanted the man punished? Although Harry wouldn't put it past that man. Well, not really a man, actually, but it didn't really make any difference in this instance.

"I expect that someone discovered the paperwork documenting the Triple Bonding of the Savior of the Wizarding World to a Death Eater old enough to be his father and made some assumptions," Snape clarified. Harry bit back his anger.

"And they're just going to arrest you? While you are ill?"

"Illness doesn't seem to be an excuse under this regime, and it hasn't been for some time."

"That's absurd!" Harry burst out, unwittingly aloud.

"What is?" asked Seamus in confusion.

"The goddamned aurors, trying to arrest Snape while he's still so sick he can't get up!"

"What?!"

Harry realized his mistake instantly. Oh, damn, he'd have to do some major damage control after all this was over. "I had a vision," he responded reluctantly, tapping the place where his scar used to be. He could sense Snape's growing unease more clearly now, and decided that he'd have to explain later. "Hold on, you guys, I've got to go. Please wait up for me?"

"Where are you going? Why- are you actually going to go try to stop a bunch of aurors?" Seamus asked with a little flash of the way he had treated Harry all last year. Harry winced, but said nothing out loud, instead opting to open the connection with Professor Snape again.

Hang on, I'm coming through."

"Coming through?" Snape asked, sending him the mental equivalent of five question marks and an exclamation point.

Harry was about to just run from the room and change into his animagus form on the way to the hospital wing, when he suddenly remembered the times that he had just healed a cut or scrape with just a brush of his hand- his untransformed hand- and decided to take another risk; it would be very helpful to be able to flame thorough barriers even if someone had put up and anti-animagus ward.

"I think I've found a way to flame without even bothering to change forms," he told Professor Snape, ignoring the burst of concern, fear, and anger and the mental mutter of imbecile, and flashed, still human, into the hospital wing in a glory of blue fire, drawing several gasps as he reappeared. Snape, his concern now showing on his face, tried to sit up and open his eyes, but before Harry could reassure him that he was ok, if a little sore and overheated, the man slumped back onto his pillow, sinking back into the bed and inadvertently attracting the attention of the rest of the witches and wizards in the room. Madame Pomfrey tried to make her way towards him, only to be shoved aside by an auror. A tall wizard in Unspeakable robes, who had been studying Harry as though he were an anomaly in a petri dish under a muggle microscope, turned back towards Snape at once, while the de-aged version of Dumbledore tried to calm everyone else down, and was ignored.

"Mr. Snape, we need you to answer a few questions, in the interests of our department," the Unspeakable said gravely, despite the fact that Snape could barely open his eyes, much less concentrate on the idiotic questions the man was presumably going to ask. Harry felt rage and phoenix magic heating inside him, and suppressed it with difficulty, although his eyes, had he but known it, were still glowing an eerie shade of electric blue.

"I...is there any possible chance you could wait?" Professor Snape rasped, long lashes blinking owlishly in the too-bright infirmary light. "I...am not at all well."

"No, you may not wait. Firstly, how did you cure the languesco mortis curse, and how did you de-age Albus Dumbledore?"

"I what!?" Severus choked; evidently he hadn't yet been informed of these developments.

"Answer us." The Unspeakable demaned.

"I have no idea how I cured the curse, and I was not aware that the primal magic had any other effects," Severus managed, closing his eyes briefly, desperation filling his thoughts along with the pain of trying to keep his head up to watch. Harry winced, not that anyone noticed. Couldn't they see he was in no condition to be questioned? "It was accidental."

The Unspeakable did not seem convinced, but then, Harry could not see his face under his charmed and warded hood, and he didn't exactly know the man's? feelings for certain.

"And how did you break an Unbreakable Vow?"

"I died," responded Severus very softly. "I died and was reborn as a result of the Rite of Flamma Aeterna."

There were several gasps from those who understood exactly what said rite was.

"What other unusual effects resulted from the ritual?" the Unspeakable continued, still in that horrible clinical manner despite Snape's obvious discomfort and exhaustion. Only Harry's promise to Hermione and his common sense kept him from throwing the man out on his arse, Unspeakable or not.

"What effects didn't?" Snape replied.

"Answer the question," said the Unspeakable, a sudden undercurrent of steel lacing his tone.

Professor Snape had evidently decided that he had no more options, and suddenly words were rushing out of him. "Very well," he said. "Considering that the phœnix was also an animagus, it caused a latent Sacred Triple Bond and changed a number of my vital signs- you can look over my medical scans for that. It also stripped my Dark Mark entirely." Professor Snape's head fell back onto the pillow again in sheer exhaustion, dark hair fanning out on the pillow.

"What do you mean the phœnix was also an animagus?"

"Exactly what he said," Harry broke in, unable to help himself. The Unspeakable whirled around.

"Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, not bothering to attempt politeness. He had never exactly been known for his patience, or his common sense, although he was fairly sure that he possessed both, somewhere. The question was where. "I'm a phœnix animagus, although I haven't had a chance to be registered yet," he added, absentmindedly noticing that he was still floating a few inches above the ground and emitting blue sparks. Ok, that was actually kind of awesome, if it weren't for the circumstances.

The Unspeakable quickly snapped him out of his own self-aggrandizing thoughts. "Forgive me if I need some proof, Mr. Potter..."

Proof? Wasn't apparating in Hogwarts, sparking with blue fire, and floating a pretty dead giveaway? Oh, well. It was rather too late to back down now, even if he might have wanted to, which he did. Harry shifted into a phœnix and back, and all the adults who hasn't seen it before startled.

"I...see. So did you notice any unusual effects of the ritual?"

Harry debated telling him to go jump in the Black Lake and kiss the giant squid, and instead responded calmly: "Well, my scar was burnt away, along with the dark magic attached to it. That's just about all on my side." It seems Hermione had been a good influence on him.

"I see. Very well. I'm afraid that you both are to come with me. We have to do some experiments."

Oh, dear Merlin no! Harry thought, afraid for the first time. What would those 'experiments' as they were so delicately and succinctly described as, consist of? His mind hastily supplied images of the mad scientists' labs he had seen on the telly and on the covers of the trashy dollar science fiction novels that Aunt Petunia had never let Dudley read, and he shuddered involuntarily. No, no, just no! Harry was so stunned and in shock that he barely even registered the various protests of the aurors and the Hogwarts staff, or the way that the Unspeakable coldly shut them up. All he could think of was that he was a freak, like Uncle Vernon had always so loved to say, and that he was never going to see the light of day again because of some peculiarity in his magic that he was only beginning to discover the full extent of, much less learn to control, that he was going to end up being dissected to see how his freakishness worked, as his dear, dear relations had liked to tell him when he had been particularly uncooperative in his formative years. And that was when Harry's magic exploded outward. "I don't know who you are or what authority you think you have, but you are not moving the professor while he's ill, and I don't particularly like the idea of going with you to be experimented on, either."

"Harry..." Severus rasped. Harry ignored him.

"Get out," he bit out again, struggling not to set the entire hospital wing on fire.

"Mr. Potter-" That was Dumbledore, but Harry didn't listen to him, either.

"Get out."

The Unspeakable took a threatening step closer. Harry gritted his teeth, wishing the man would just disappear, imagining sending him right back to the Department of Mysteries where he belonged, and, in a particular craze of vindictiveness, in the Love Room, being dunked in a fountain of lust potion. And the Unspeakable vanished into thin air. Harry took three or four deep breaths and slumped back against Severus's bed.

"Great," he slurred, green eyes fluttering shut. Merlin, he was so tired! "I think I made another enemy."


	13. Pansy's Treachery

It all came to a head on Halloween, just like it always had. That particular October had actually been unusually calm, with few Death Eater raids and no trouble at all from the Unspeakables, and Harry knew, without a doubt, that it was _not_ going to last. And he also could not help but feel like all the bad luck and the bad things scheduled for that particular October were being saved up, all for one day. He would, in time, be proved right, but for now it was only a vague forboding. Besides, there wasn't much he could do to prepare, as he didn't know exactly what was coming, though he and the other members of the Golden Trio did their best to prepare. He, Ron, and Hermione helped Professor Snape dispose of the last horcruxes, (well, except for Nagini, as they didn't have access to her) but other than that, all they could do was revise their defense and healing spells and simply bide their time, and he was growing horribly tense from the waiting, itching to do something, to make some sort of preemptive strike. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville, who they had decided to allow into their confidence, partook in restless duels that were more just to expel their ceaseless nervous tension then to actually train, as they knew each other so well by now that dueling each other was not really the best way to get better. Hermione went off and consulted with the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff upper year girls for hours, coming back with new ideas to implement, should the Death Eaters start something, though of the Slytherins, only Daphne Greengrass was willing to talk battle tactics with a mudblood. Harry informally drilled the first years as to what to do during an attack, and took it upon himself to keep a very close eye on the wannabee Death Eaters in Slytherin. Harry practiced defense with Professor Snape, even learning how to cast fiendfyre, so that he would have a way to destroy Nagini if he somehow did not have access to basilisk venom or the Sword of Gryffindor. Meanwhile, Ron was writing up battle plans on thick drawing paper, and Neville was making preparations that he refused to tell the others about, dorm-mates or no.

Harry couldn't help thinking it would be inadequate. They would potentially be facing fully grown and trained Death Eaters, and Merlin knew what, beside, and somehow he didn't think that kiddy jinxes would work too well against them. And, as if calculated to add to his anxiety (and it probably was) why were the Unspeakables suddenly so quiet? He had assumed they'd back down a little, to get their bearings (he had, after all, banished one of their number somewhere- he actually still didn't know where, as he'd been acting on sheer panic when he had done it- and that wasn't something the most powerful and dangerous department of the ministry was likely to advertise, even if they knew) but he would have expected that they would be coming back with a vengeance, not...this. Surely he hadn't actually intimidated them that much, _he_ , Harry Potter, who, while famous and admittedly powerful was physically about as scary as a beanie baby? And- this thought scared him more than he was willing to admit- if he had, what would they do to him now that they thought him a threat? Harry gulped and went back to the Defense Text that he had been trying to read over all afternoon.

Surprisingly, however, Halloween day itself proved to be, at first, exactly like all the other crisp autumn days that had come before it. Aside from a pop quiz in Transfiguration, which Harry aced anyway, nothing unexpected had happened, and by lunch, Harry was tentatively hoping that Voldemort would skip this year, even if it meant that the Light would have to then wait for the other shoe to drop.

By that afternoon, he was growing more and more apprehensive. Tiring of trying to play Gobstones and Exploding Snap in the common room to drain his nervous tension, he took a walk through the halls of Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione, poking around in old classrooms and secret passageways for old times' sake, and finally, as Ron's stomach started to growl, the kitchens, as there was still an hour left to go before it was time for supper. Then they made their way to the Rooms of Requirement for a quick duel.

At least, that was what they had planned. They made their way up to the seventh floor via the various corridors and moving staircases, and they had just entered the corridor where the entrance to the Rooms of Requirement were, when they heard voices up ahead, voices that most definitely did not sound like students. Harry hastily drew his invisibility cloak out of a pocket and threw it over them, but they were far from first years, now, and even with Hermione's hasty wordless notice-me-not, they were not fast enough to hide without a scuffle of feet, and a harsh voice ahead of them called out, "Who's there!"

Oh, great. Harry recognized that voice; it was one of the Lestrange brothers. How had they got into the castle?! Harry's silent question was answered, moments later, when a party of some forty Death Eaters and a vanguard of dark creatures led by a smirking, pug-nosed Pansy Parkinson and Draco's old bodyguards from back when he ran in Death Eater circles, rounded the corner.

"Run!" Ron hissed, and then they were bolting in a zig-zag down the corridor, still partially concealed by the shimmering notice-me-not, although the cloak could not cover them all at once now they were running, and Harry lost valuable time having to shake the gleaming fabric from off his head, as the hood, now crooked, was covering his face. The Death Eaters followed, cursing, but the Golden Trio had had quite a lot of practice running from nasties of all sorts and descriptions, and so, although Ron took a cutting curse to the shoulder, they escaped quickly down one of the passages marked on the Marauders' Map, leaving the Death Eaters to rush on by outside. Once safely ensconced in their hiding spot, Hermione rummaged in her pockets and drew out her DA galleon, changing the usual message on it to read "Approx. 50 DE's + allies invading via. ROR. Need backup; tell adults."

Harry, meanwhile, opened up the mental link with professor Snape. _"PROFESSOR!"_

_"What is it, Harry?"_

_"Pansy Parkinson let in a bunch of Death Eaters and dark creatures via. the vanishing cabinet in the Rooms of Requirement! Please tell Dumbledore; we're hiding from them in the secret passageway behind the portrait of Harald Hardrada and the manticore right now."_

_"WHAT?!"_

_"Yes; we've alerted the DA- that's the Defense study group I led last year- but there were no Slytherins or staff who know about that, so you'll have to warn the Light-side snakes and the teachers."_

_"Very well; stay safe, defend yourself, and don't lose your head. I'm going to mute the link so that we don't distract one-another."_

_"'Kay."_ Harry cut the link. "Right," he said out loud to his friends. "Professor Snape knows. We've got to get out of here and rally the DA; the teachers will probably be thinking about getting the lower forms to safety and neutralizing the wannabee Death Eaters right now."

"There are still Death Eaters out there," protested Ron.

"And I'm a phoenix animagus." Harry stuffed his cloak back into his pocket along with his wand. "I'll flash you guys to the Gryffindor common room. Grab my tail feathers and hold your breath; it's just like flooing." Harry told them, and transformed.

Ron and Hermione grabbed his tail feathers at once, Ron gripping them especially tight with shaking fingers; Harry had never flashed them before, but now was not the time to worry about that. The world dissolved into eye-searing electric blues, and then reformed, and they were in the common room. The other students gasped. They were even more shocked when Hermione opened her mouth.

"Death Eaters, in the school!" she panted, swaying to keep upright as the excessive heat of flaming wore off. "First through third years, you've got to either stay here or help Madame Pomfrey. Fourth years and up, if you can and want to fight, come with us; if not, stay in the common room and make sure the Death Munchers don't get in here!"

"What the heck?! Who died and made you Professor Dumbledore?" burst out one of the seventh years.

"No time for that!" Harry barked, having transformed, and everyone gaped at him. "The school is under attack; do what she says unless a teacher says otherwise! This isn't a game!"

On hearing their "savior" say these words, the last dissenters subsided, and Harry began to round the children up into a group of general fighters like he had in DA, making sure one of those he had taught before or someone he knew could fight was in the head of each group, and making sure that none of the third years were included. Then he popped everyone who wanted to work in the infirmary into the hospital wing in a series of short flames, thoroughly startling Madame Pomfrey in the process, and unwittingly earning himself the awe and adoration of many a firstie. Within only fifteen minutes, a considerably more tired Harry had flamed the last batch of students to the hospital wing, Ron had organized all the willing students into fighting units of four with one DA member as leader, a student good at healing, and two others, and Hermione was soothing the frightened firsties and making sure that they had defenders and comforters.

And then they really, truly went to war.

Whatever Voldemort and his forces might have suspected, it was evidently not this. All the older students who could fight did, and even Parvati and Lavender gave their all, throwing crystal balls from Trelawny's Tower, charmed to be unbreakable and extra heavy, at the Death Eaters from above, and Neville set up traps of baby mandrakes, baby whomping willows in pots, eros orchids, which secreted an overpowering perfume, Sagittus spinifora, or archery plant, and Mimbulus mimbletonia, as had apparently been his secret plan. And Harry would never look down at girls who spent all their time putting on makeup again after the things he saw Cho and Padma do with blush, charmed mascara, and overpowered leg-shaving spells! The DA, especially, worked like a single unit, stunning and binding Death Eaters right alongside the professors, and before long, the numbers of the Death Eaters had vastly decreased, even more so since about half of the (mostly younger) Slytherins were fighting on the side of the Light.

Harry was actually growing rather hopeful that they would come out of this with no casualties, when all of a sudden a chill swept the hall, and icy smoke began to swell up. Voldemort and his reinforcements had arrived, and there were far, far more of them than there were even students in the castle, much less students able to fight. Dementors swept forward, trailing their ragged cloaks in silence and despair, while behind them ranged vampires, covered in heavy sunscreen charms, a group of terrifying-looking men in ragged clothes who appeared to be Greyback's clan, and even a pair of chained dragons! Oh, damn, that might be a problem. And, which was more, behind them stalked Lord Voldemort himself.

The fighting broke out again, more virulent than ever, and, overlaying it all, an all-pervading sense of utter nihilism came over the fighters of the Light as the dementors approached. Harry, who had been dueling with a pair of minor Death Eaters, back to back with Ginny, (he had not yet caught sight of Nagini) fell back, but as it happened, the Death Eaters themselves were overcome as well, giving Harry and Ginny the respite needed to cast their patronuses. Ginny managed hers first, as she was not hearing the screams of all the people whom she had ever failed, and a gorgeous silver horse trotted into the hall, driving the dementors back away from the other students, and giving Harry the strength to cast his own, which burst from the tip of his wand in a dazzle of gold and tore apart the nearest dementors, causing the Dark forces to back away in shock and horror and the defenders, except for the well-trained DA, to falter in shock. Before long, the dementors were nothing more than bits of bone and ragged cloth, releasing the souls that they had consumed in a wave of white light, and about half of the Death Eaters were retreating, while Voldemort, nearly foaming at the mouth in his rage, shoved his way through Death Eaters and defenders alike to attack Harry. Before he had gotten half-way there, though, Professor Dumbledore engaged him in combat again, and the hall dissolved into turbulence once more.

Despite the ever-replenishing dark forces, it was clear from this moment on which side the battle was weighted on. Cho and Marietta, with terrifyingly accurate teamwork, were blasting vampires with finite encantems and tanning charms, turning them into powdery white ash that covered the floor and made everyone cough. Professor Mcgonagall took on Greyback, killing him with a transfigured silver knife to the head. Neville faced Bellatrix Lestrange herself, white-faced and trembling from rage as much as fear, and cast a cutting curse that disfigured her beautiful but maddened features forever, blinding one of her eyes before she caught him with an incendio that made his wand-arm unusable and fled. Flitwick took down the Carrows, one after the other, before having to be portkeyed hastily to the hospital wing, while the youthful version of Professor Dumbledore kept up perfectly with Voldemort, their duel almost more like an elaborate choreography than an actual fight in it's skill, speed, and sheer impressiveness. And still Harry hunted for Nagini, pausing on the way to help Lavender knock out Jugson and tie him to one of the chairs at Hufflepuff table, and having to be saved himself by Professor Sprout as one of the untransformed werewolves got too close. And then, at last, Harry caught sight of Voldemort's last horcrux, slithering though the battle.

In an instant, Harry was running, slipping on gore and on the hair of one of the fallen Slytherins as he made his way towards the snake, wand in hand. Oh, Merlin, the end was in sight! The snake reared up with a terrifying hiss, made more terrifying by the translation: _"_ _~I will swallow you and digest you in pieces, enemy of my master~_ " -what an inopportune time to learn that he was still a parselmouth!- but Harry only caught her with a wave of fiendfyre that made both Light and Dark sides stare-not just that the 'Chosen One' could cast it, but that he could control it- and within minutes she was a smoking mess of scales and cooked snake's meat, the horcrux dying with her, it's inhuman scream mingling with her agonized hissing into a sound that made even the Death Eaters clap their hands to their ears. But it didn't matter, because Voldmort's last anchor to immortality was destroyed.

Voldemort's scream of pain and rage was worse even than Nagini's. A wave of frothing Dark accidental magic knocked Professor Dumbledore flat on his back, and then Voldemort was charging straight at Harry though the mailström of combatants, and Harry had a moment to think _"this is it, then,"_ before the Dark wizard was upon him.

The duel was fast, furious, and charged with so much magic that it literally flowed off of both of them, filling the air with black smog and sapphire sparks. Harry shot off as many spells as he could think of, ranging from pitifully inadequate Light jinxes to some of the dark magic that he had seen used in his visions and read about in Professor Snape's private library, when the man would let him. Voldemort, in turn, cast a lot of Dark things that Harry had never heard of and probably couldn't even pronounce, given the chance; the only thing he was sure about was that he mustn't let the spells hit him. A few _did_ , breaking through powerful defenses fueled by phoenix magic, and before long Harry was bleeding in multiple places, and his phoenix instinct and intuition was aching from all the dark magic. He knew instinctively, with that terrible phoenix power that had never failed him before, that all the magical strength and skill he could summon up would not be enough, not against this _creature_ with an inordinately powerful wand at his command, and fifty-four more years of experience in the Dark Arts and combat magic than Harry had. And that was when three things happened in such quick succession that no intervention was possible, even by magic: a blazing spear of green light shot straight at Harry's unprotected chest, Hermione cried a warning, and a figure in voluminous black robes lunged in between Harry and the killing curse and fell in silence.


	14. The Battle of Hogwarts

Severus Snape knew that today would be the day. Perhaps it was his new phoenix abilities, perhaps it was simply common sense and extrapolation from the events of previous Halloweens, but he knew- somehow- that today would be the day that the war ended, for better or worse. If he would survive it, or what would happen after, Severus could only guess.

The day had been surprisingly calm, for a Halloween, but Severus knew that it wouldn't last, not if his worries came to fruition, and, indeed, even his seventh years were rather jittery that morning and early afternoon, and, though he had planned a test, he ended up giving his various classes a practical, instead, wanting to instill at least some knowledge of defensive magic in their heads, in case they had to fight that day.

It was his last class of the day, a Ravenclaw-Slytherin class in the late afternoon, when the attack that he had been expecting all day was confirmed by a panicked voice in his head while he was trying to teach a lesson on dementors.

_"PROFESSOR!"_ Potter shouted into his mind, making his skull ring with his intensity. Oh, Merlin, that was not a good sign.

_"What is it, Harry?"_ he asked.

_"Pansy Parkinson let in a bunch of Death Eaters and dark creatures via. the vanishing cabinet in the Rooms of Requirement! Please tell Dumbledore; we're hiding from them in the secret passageway behind the portrait of Harald Hardrada and the manticore right now."_

_"WHAT?!"_ Severus was furious, and rightly so. He thought he had taught his little snakes better than that; where had he gone so wrong?

_"Yes; we've alerted the DA- that's the Defense study group I led last year- but there were no Slytherins or staff who know about that, so you'll have to warn the Light-side snakes and the teachers."_ Harry hastily responded. Good. So at least one of his students hadn't gone off his head, although Severus was willing to bet that it had been Granger who had remembered the enchanted galleon. Still, never mind about that now, pointless speculation would not get anything done, and he needed to warn the headmaster.

_"Very well,"_ he responded, already raising his wand to summon his patronus; Albus had to know about the invasion as soon as possible. _"S_ _tay safe, defend yourself, and don't lose your head. I'm going to mute the link so that we don't distract one-another."_

_"'Kay,"_ was Harry's response, and then the link was muted on his side as well, and Severus could focus fully again. He shook his head to shake off the last haze of Harry's emotions, and then cast " _Expecto littera patroni!_ " At once, his golden doe exploded from the tip of his wand and stood at attention, as his class stared at him, evidently assuming that this was a demonstration. The stares changed to looks of confusion and fear as Severus charmed it to carry a message, instead, and then sent it, with the message of: "We need aurors and the Order over here now, no time to lose, Parkinson let Death Eaters and allies into the castle" to Alastair Moody.

The doe bounded away, and Severus at once turned back to his students. "Right," he said, fixing them with a serious look. "The school is being attacked; class dismissed. If you are able and willing to fight, we need all the help we can get; otherwise it would be best if you could work in the infirmary or collect the lower years and keep them in the common room so they don't try to get involved in the battle."

The students appeared rather shell-shocked at the transmission of this intelligence. "But-" broke in one Ravenclaw.

"NOW!"

Said Ravenclaw squeaked and grabbed her textbook and wand, following the rest of the nearly-panicking students, and Severus allowed himself a moment to occlude before hastily leaving to secure the Slytherin common room and warn the rest of the teachers.

He was running faster than he ever had in his life through the dungeons now, feet nearly leaving the ground entirely in his haste. If Parkinson had let in a posse of Death Eaters, then the Dark Lord would be coming close behind, and his Slytherins- indeed, all the students- would be in grave danger. At last, he came to a stop in front of the bare stone wall which concealed the entrance to the common room. "Felix Felicis," he told it hastily, and then stepped through the opening created into the common room itself, startling all the Slytherins there.

"Professor Snape?" asked one of them, Pucey, if he remembered rightly. "What's wrong?"

"Hogwarts is being attacked by Death Eaters, and probably the Dark Lord himself," he responded. "I need the prefects to do a head-count and report everyone who is missing. Everyone under third year must either stay in the common room or help in the infirmary; if you feel as though you can't fight or have family fighting, stay and defend the first years or help in the infirmary. If you join the opposite side, you will be stunned and dealt with after the battle, if the more zealous Light side fighters don't attack you first, so I suggest staying neutral if you are not going to fight for Hogwarts."

The slightly shell-shocked Slytherins began organizing themselves into groups- some fighters, some field medics, some lower years, and some neutrals- at his (and the prefects') directions. One, Theodore Nott, foolishly cast a _confringo_ at Severus himself as he turned to leave, but Millicent Bulstrode stunned him before Severus could even turn around, earning herself several automatic house points as Severus left in a hurry, trusting the prefects he had chosen, Greengrass and Malfoy, to keep the peace. And then he was heading for Dumbledore's office.

Severus had been trying to avoid Dumbledore all month. Ever since the Unspeakables had revealed his and Potter's secrets, Dumbledore had, like the meddling old man that he was, been trying to get more information and talk to Severus every spare minute. While some of his concern was certainly valid, considering that he was Headmaster of Hogwarts and thus had to ensure that Harry wasn't being harmed, it was still frustrating to be dragged into his office for lemon drops and a chat every time he had just settled down to do a bit of experimental brewing, and Severus had taken to brewing for the hospital wing overtime in the evenings, at least when he was not working on his lesson plans. But now was no time either for brewing or for chats.

"Bacon breath mints," he told the gargoyle, whose stone face seemed to look just as disgusted with the password as he felt, though it slid aside obediently. Severus stepped into Dumbledore's office at once.

"Severus! To what do I owe the pleasure-"

"To the fact that Pansy Parkinson just let about forty Death Eaters, Dark sympathizers, and some dark creatures into Hogwarts using the vanishing cabinet connecting Borgin and Burkes to the Rooms of Requirement."

The twinkle in his mentor's eyes died away immediately. "I see."

"I put the remainder of my Slytherins in lockdown," Severus continued, "and Potter and his friends are mobilizing the Gryffindors and the members of Potter's defense club; the other heads of house will have to be alerted at once."

"Yes, of course, excellent work, Severus."

Severus warmed inwardly at the praise, but he only nodded and left at a run to collect the rest of the teachers.

It took only a few minutes for Filius and Pomona to put the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs into lockdown, at least the ones who were too young or unwilling to fight, and then a lightening quick staff meeting had all of the teachers either running to protect their respective houses or heading for the seventh floor, to try to stop the Death Eaters and secure the Room of Requirements before any more Death Eaters came out. Septima and Bathsheba secured the wards of Hogwarts, with Dumbledore's help, while the others fanned out, each using their respective skill sets. Sweet Merlin, the things Minerva could do with Transfiguration! But Severus was not, as a matter of fact, paying much attention at all to the other professors, except when they needed help or one of them got in his line of sight. He was too busy blasting Death Eaters.

He had to admit it was surprisingly cathartic. He had had to pretend that he enjoyed being one of Voldemort's "elite" for so long, had to pretend that these depraved men were truly his friends, or as close to friends as partners in a terrorist organization could be, had to brew poisons that killed in terrible pain, and had to play along with the Dark Lords depravities...but now he was where he truly should have been, all along, fighting on the side of the Light with the rest of the professors at his side.

"Traitor!" roared McNair, and he whirled around, ducking just in time to miss a nasty gouging curse to the head. He responded with a clean _sectemsembra_ and stepped over the body, only to see one of his Slytherins, Lillian Moon, being backed up against the wall by Goyle and Rookwood. Severus spat a curse, and the two wheeled.

They snarled the obligatory insults (well, at least Goyle did) before Rookwood fell to a stunner and Jugson to an " _incendio_ ", and Severus went on, almost intoxicated by the heat of battle, flinging curses and fighting off Death Eaters and defending his students with all the strength he had in him, while also attempting to keep an eye out for Nagini.

But that was when the next wave of the Dark Lord's creature allies began flooding into the hall.

Vampires came, fangs glinting as they attacked and attempted to turn the students, dangerous in their near-invincibility, despite the fact that a wizard-turned-vampire can usually no longer cast spells. Severus staked a few, then, seeing some of the Ravenclaw students blasting them with tanning charms, did the same, considering that it was certainly the easiest way to destroy them. He would have to remember to give Chang and Edgecombe points if he survived. And if they did, although he would sacrifice his own life if it meant he could protect his students (although, being a Slytherin, that would certainly be a last resort).

The vampires were followed by werewolves, Greyback's clan, and Severus couldn't help but shudder a little, although he would never have admitted it had someone commented. Werewolves were his least favorite dark creatures, despite the fact that they were only dangerous once a month; he had never stopped having nightmares of Lupin's slavering jaws even now, when he was a mind mage and able to somewhat control his dreams, and just the brush with death (or with ruination, had he been bitten) was enough to make his wand-hand falter. But he recovered himself within the instant, occluded harshly, and attacked at once, as the werewolves, dressed in muggle black leather jackets and spiked collars (for those who could afford such, like Greyback's favorites) or otherwise in rags, and bearing stolen wands, came at them.

There were trolls, dragons in great iron chains, inferi, and even giants, and though Severus fought his hardest, with all the skill of his double DADA mastery and Potions mastery, teachers and students and Order members were falling, and Severus could only cast the quickest of healing charms and portkey them hastily to the infirmary, sometimes without even checking to see if they were still alive. And still, the dark forces were coming, nor could Severus see either Nagini or her master. And why weren't the aurors here?!

It was at that time that the first dementor floated into the Great Hall, and Severus froze in horror. What if one of his students had been Kissed in the Halls? How had the foul creatures even got past the new wards that Dumbledore and the heads of houses had installed? But there was no more time for idle speculation now, not when the total despair fomented by the creatures was washing over the ranks of Light and Dark alike, causing them all to cower and lose their nerve, reliving all their worst nightmares.

"Expecto Patronum!" he barked, and his doe- Lily's doe- burst from his wand, glowing so bright it illuminated his face in it's pale glare, and made the students and teachers who hadn't seen it before gasp in shock. The Death Eaters, too, were frozen, and Severus managed to stun several before they regained their senses, all while the patronus was tearing up dementor after dementor, making the loathsome creatures flee as fast as they could float, only to be corralled toward's Harry's golden stag and annihilated, torn into bits of slimy black fabric and the white glow of souls being released.

And that was when Severus caught sight of the Dark Lord himself, shoving his way though followers and enemies alike as he stormed towards Potter, ruby eyes glowing from within with pure unadulterated rage. It was not a pretty sight. Severus attempted to approach, wanting to ensure that Potter was safe, but before he got more than a few steps from his place by the head table, Headmaster Dumbledore engaged the Dark Lord in combat, and Severus went back to defending his students, always keeping one eye out for the Dark Lord's last horcrux.

The tide of battle was beginning to turn. Despite the ever-replenishing dark forces, the Light seemed now to be beginning to hold their own, and Death Eater after Death Eater began to fall, while, too, did the dark creatures who had thrown in their lot with the self-styled Dark Lord.

Severus caught sight of Neville Longbottom facing off Bellatrix Lestrange herself, defiantly pointing her wand in his face. Worried about the self-conscious Gryffindor, especially considering what Lestrange had done to his parents previously, Severus weaved though several knots of fighters, ready to help, but as he approached, Longbottom waved him away shakily.

"Oh, does the wittle baby think he can duel?" Bellatrix taunted, twirling her wand like a baton. "Maybe if you're lucky you'll get a matching bed in St. Mungo's with your parents when I'm done with you!"

"The hell I will!" Longbottom spat in response, pale and shaking with anger and fear, and before Severus could do more than blink at the shyest boy in the school telling off his parents' attacker, Longbottom had cast a cutting curse which blinded one of Bellatrix's mad black eyes and tore across her beautiful features, ruining them irreparably. Longbottom followed that with a volley of curses and (for some odd reason) a jar of stinksap, before the screaming and half-blinded witch cast a lopsided incendio and fled, leaving Longbottom panting on the ground, staring after her fleeing form with eyes that overflowed with agonized tears. Even with his limited medical expertise, Severus knew that it was likely nothing short of phoenix magic could make Longbottom's burnt arm usable again.

Severus hastily approached the boy, handing him a portkey to the hospital wing (though he tried feebly to protest- something about leaving Hannah Abbot behind) and then resumed scanning the field for students in below their depth, sensing that that would be where his skills could be best applied.

Filius Flitwick took down the Carrows, one after the other, with an ingenious combination of glacial transfiguration and _aquamenti_ charms, freezing them into twin lumps of ice before crumpling back against the wall, having been hit by a misdirected _exviscera_ ; Severus portkeyed him to the hospital at once, after pulsing a little phoenix magic into him to keep the disembowelment curse from causing any true damage.

Severus was beginning to lose count of all the Death Eaters he had to fight, of all the dead that he had to step over. He caught sight of Astoria Greengrass, eyes blank, and hoped against hope that she was still alive, despite recognizing only too well how a dead body looks. Macmillan, Boot, and Corner appeared to be down as well, though the bodies were not unmixed with those of the Death Eaters and sympathizers who had likewise been killed. All the while, the youthful version of Dumbledore dueled Voldemort, seemingly oblivious to the students falling around him. Severus took a breathless instant to grieve, before spotting Lavender Brown being smashed up against a wall by Jugson. He attempted to fight his way closer, but as he did so, Gibbon, Dolohov, Crabbe Sr, and Nott attacked him at the same time, and he could only hope that she would be able to fight off her assailant.

"You're lucky you lasted this long, Severus," Dolohov hissed, raising his wand. The other three were boxing him in by now, and though Severus stood tall, he knew there was a great likelihood that he would not survive.

"And you're lucky you haven't yet been caught by the aurors," Severus replied evenly, shooting off a quick _confringo_. Dolohov dodged, and suddenly all of them were casting at once and it was all he could do just to keep up a shield charm. He was struck by more than one _crucitus_ at once, but, just as his vision began to grey around the edges, a girlish voice rang out, and Dolohov promptly turned into a large, goat-like animal, with crinkled horns and purple eyes on stalks. The other Death Eaters whirled around, but as they did so, three more jets of colored light exploded in their faces, and all three of them promptly crumpled to the ground, one dead, one covered in foot-long hair, and one whose head and bottom seemed to have reversed. Severus sat up, panting, to see Miss Lovegood, wand firmly in hand.

"Are you ok, sir? The flishtins told me that you were in trouble."

Severus took a moment to digest that before responding: "fine, thank you Miss Lovegood." He paused, but then could not resist asking "May I ask what spells you used?"

"Oh, tintinabulo, avada kedavra, crescere comas, and verto," she replied, without being perturbed that she had just admitted to using an unforgivable and two unknown spells. Severus might have made a response to that, but at that instant, he caught sight of Harry, fighting Nagini with a wave of fiendfyre that made both sides of the conflict stare and Severus sigh, and then the snake was whipping around on the floor of the Great Hall, smoking, charred coils writhing, a horrible scream mingling with her agonized hissing, and then, at last, Severus knew that the Dark Lord's last horcrux was gone. He also knew that Voldemort would be far from happy about that.

He was right. Voldemort's scream of pain, fear and rage was inhuman, as he was, a cry of pure bestiality. He stood for a moment as if unable to believe that his beloved pet and horcrux was dead, and then he lunged for Harry though the mailström that was the Battle of Hogwarts, his accidental magic flaring out to knock Headmaster Dumbledore flat on his back and making all of the candles in the Great Hall flare up like mini tongues of fiendfyre.

And then he and Harry were dueling, and the rest of the combatants left off fighting to watch the magnificent duel. It was fast, passionate, and charged with so much magic that it literally flowed off of both of them in a churning whirlwind of black smog and blue phoenix fire, both of them casting dark and light magic indiscriminately. It would be considered, in later years, a duel to go down in history, the second leading duel in a battle which would have its own chapter in _Hogwarts, a History_. Severus, however, could only think of how ill-matched it was. For all his training, for all his powers, for all the phoenix magic which all who knew the prophecy knew was "the Power the Dark Lord knows not", Harry was still only sixteen years old to Voldemort's seventy-one, and he was, in addition, already tired from fighting and healing other students, while Voldemort had only dueled Dumbledore, and (while that was no small feat) he had much more endurance. Before long, Harry was bleeding in multiple places as his formidable phoenix magic shields were worn though, and yet Voldmort continued to attack him. Severus got the horrible sense that he was only toying with him, only trying to use him as an object lesson to his followers and all the others watching. And that was when the Dark Lord finally tired of the sport, and cast the killing curse.

He couldn't breathe. Harry couldn't die- he was too young, he had a whole life in front of him, he had a prophecy to fulfill! Severus didn't even stop to think; he would later say that if he had, he would not have done something so blatantly Gryffindor. But as it was, he lunged forward, dark robes whipping around him, and caught the green light on his broad chest. And the world dissolved into blazing waves of silver fire, falling away around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahaha! Evil author day! But seriously, there's a sequel. Things...might...work out. I mean, they are technically both phoenixes now... Remember, the more reviews I get, the sooner I update!


	15. The End of the Matter

The world was one vast expanse of whiteness. Severus rose, slowly, trying to shake the fog from his mind. He...should have died, shouldn't he? So where was he? The answer came quite quickly, supplied by his now ever-present phoenix intuition. _I'm in between_. The thought did not terrify him as much as it might have in years past. He was, however, sorrowful, and a little frustrated that this was his end, that he would not live to see Voldemort die, not live to see Harry established and at peace, not live to publish the potions that he had wanted to for years, collecting in a notebook as heavily warded as Azkaban to publish when the war was finally over. All the same, unless you were Harry Potter, no one could just bounce back from a killing curse, and Severus was stoic enough not to rage at his abrupt death, especially as it had been, at least, for a reason. Harry would survive, and that was all that mattered.

He was also quite curious. This was not what he had expected the afterlife to take form as, and he had certainly done quite a lot of morbid thinking and writing about that. He'd researched nearly every muggle and wizarding belief system, wondering about his own mortality, meditating on the Elysium and Tartarus of the Greeks, the Heaven of the Christians, the Hel of the Vikings, the reincarnation of the Japanese, and the Western land of the Egyptians, and many others, as well as the corresponding wizarding beliefs. He had to admit that he was quite heartened there was not a crocodile/hippopotamus/lion hybrid waiting to swallow his soul. What would happen now?

He was answered as the hall slowly began to take shape, color gradually soaking into the blank mist, which parted to reveal the Great Hall of Hogwarts. He knew immediately that it was not _his_ Hogwarts, however, because it was unnaturally calm and empty seeming too vast, and too empty, with not even a trace of the battle that had been raging there only (to him) moments before. It was at this moment that he became cognizant that he did not have his wand, nor was he dressed. He supposed he would not need either of those things here, but he still felt irrationally vulnerable. Even as he thought this, however, his usual heavy black teaching robes materialized around him.

Nothing seemed to have changed other than that, however. Severus gazed around him, wondering what was supposed to happen, if he should just start walking, (or however he was locamoting, since he no longer had corporeal legs). And that was when he heard a voice he never thought he would hear again.

"Severus!"

Severus whipped around, unable to breathe (not that he needed to, he supposed). It took him a few moments before he could compose himself even just to speak. "L-Lily?"

She was just as beautiful, just as perfect, as when she had been alive, like a flower preserved forever before it wilts. Red hair tumbled over her shoulders in a waterfall, just as he remembered, and almond-shaped green eyes, the same shade as her son's glimmered in a kind of supernatural light that blazed around her. She was wearing the beautiful tasseled pale gold dress she had worn to the Yule Ball, so many years ago, when they had still been friends, and he had asked to go with her, though only in friendship- he'd known even back then that she had not loved him romantically, if at all.

She took a slow step closer, and then another. Severus couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare as she approached. And then she reached out, and slapped him across the cheek.

Severus reeled. Admittedly, in his darkest dreams, he had envisioned her reproach, but it still hurt. Oh, Merlin, it hurt, though the slap itself was little more than a sting. All the years he had tried to atone, all the years he had spent trying to make it up...he'd always known somewhere inside that it would not be enough- nothing could be, but Merlin help him, it hurt just as much as it had in his fifth year, so many years ago. He tried desperately to formulate an apology, but before he could say more than a word, she clapped her hand over his mouth and dragged him into a ferocious embrace. "You stupid, idiotic, _wonderful_ man!"

Severus's brain short-circuited. "Lily, what...?" he tried to say, still muffled by her hand. She drew back, regarding him.

"I never thought you'd be more Gryffindor than my son," she continued, and now she was smiling, the sparkle back in her gorgeous green eyes. "You could have just conjured something to block it, you know."

"He was going to _die_ , Lily!"

Her smile softened. "I know. Oh, Severus, I'm so proud of you."

He had not expected to hear _that_ , either.

"Proud?" he whispered, ashamed to notice that his voice had cracked. "Lily, I failed you. How?"

"Stop that right now, Severus Snape! Yes, you were an arse, but you've already more than paid for your mistakes. Besides, you are the reason Harry survived the Killing Curse, do you know that?"

"I was the one who told him the prophecy," Severus began brokenly, before the rest of what Lily had said caught up to him. "I _what_?!"

"Thousands of mothers, all throughout history, have sacrificed themselves for their children. It never did a bit of good before now. You know why?"

"I thought it was the horcrux...?"

"That vile thing had nothing to do with it! No, it was the fact that you made him swear to spare me." She paused, as if reminiscing. "He gave me the option to step aside, but I didn't take it. I didn't refuse, either, I just said 'no, not Harry'. But he lost his patience. I suppose he thought that he'd already adequately fulfilled his promise. So he just killed me, and then the amnesty he was supposed to have offered me was passed to Harry, so when he tried to kill him, the curse just bounced off." She smiled faintly. "You've come a long way, Severus. Such a long way from the boy I once knew and the teenager who hurt me."

The misty rendition of the Great Hall seemed unusually bright. Severus simply stood there, swaying, unable to comprehend, not even caring about the drops of illusory liquid trickling down his cheeks. After so long... "But I was a Death Eater," was all he could say. "I brewed agonizing poisons for the Dark Lord. I _murdered._ I tormented the students in my care. I hurt _Harry_ , too- those occlumensy lessons. How can you simply stand there and say you are proud?"

"Because I am." Lily reached out, slender fingers tugging up his cuff, revealing his bare forearm, the first time he had pulled up his sleeves since the ritual. "You see that? Your mark wouldn't be gone if you had been a true Death Eater. And as long as I have been watching you, you never killed for sport, never killed except to euthanize the prisoners the others tortured into madness. And yes, you hurt Harry- that was what the slap was for. But you stopped, didn't you? Severus, I was indeed angry at you, angry for a long time. I'm not going to lie. But there's a lot of perspective to be gained here, and I've seen the _good_ things you've done, too, the things that you feel aren't worthy enough to acknowledge, even if they are. I've seen you cast a patronus so strong that it can _destroy_ dementors. I've seen you comfort your little Slytherins when they have no one else to do so. I've seen you spend all night brewing because a student needs a difficult potion, and then get right back up to teach in two hours. I've seen you come back from Death Eater meetings bleeding, and go straight to make your report when you should have been headed to the hospital wing. I've seen _you_ , Severus, and that is why I am proud."

"Lily flower, I-"

"Shh. I'm not finished, and we don't have that much time here. You've got to go back, and soon."

"I what? Back to where?" Severus asked. She _couldn't_ have said what he'd thought she said.

"That was exactly what I said," said Lily calmly, and Severus realized that he'd spoken out loud. "Severus, ordinarily this would be impossible. The killing curse is the killing curse, and that's that. But you are a phoenix now, and there are different rules."

" _I_ am a phoenix? I thought-"

"You know what the Sacred Triple Bond entails, don't you? Bound minds, bounds souls, and matching animagus forms." She smiled. "You are a phoenix."

"So that means..."

"You can go back, yes. You are literally functionally immortal, as a matter of fact, as is Harry. The other option open to you is reincarnation with your memories wiped, but you can never truly die, not anymore," she said, almost sadly.

"But, if I go back...won't I be an infant again, if I'm now a phoenix?"

She shook her head. "You would think, yes, but that isn't how it works. You would be reborn at the same age you became a phoenix, which in your case is thirty-seven and in Harry's case is sixteen. Any damage done to your body previously will be healed, and your memories would be intact."

"What happens if I go dark, one day? If I'm a phoenix...is that even possible? Would I just die?"

"It..." she hesitated. "It's possible. For a phoenix to go dark, I mean. I can't say any more. But Severus, there is literally no way _you_ could go dark, and I know you could stop Harry if he started down that path."

Severus took a moment to digest that. Then something else occurred to him. "What about...if I was to marry, or if Harry were to, what would that do to the bond?" Not that he had any intentions of marrying, but he knew Harry would one day want to.

"Nothing, substantially. If you used an unbreakable bond during your marriage vows, then perhaps your partner, or Harry's, would be able to telepathically communicate with both of you, but it shouldn't prevent you from finding love. And," her eyes sparkled with laughter, "there _is_ a way to block the telepathy, an extraordinarily simple way, too. You'll have to figure it out on your own, though..."

"Can't you tell me?" he asked, feeling childish for saying it but desperate to know how to control the mind link.

She grinned. "I could, but I won't. I shouldn't have to do everything for you, Sev, and besides, it's fun to watch you two accidentally send personal thoughts."

Her grin was contagious, and before Severus realized what he was doing, the corners of his lips quirked up in an odd smile. Some part of him still wondered if all of this was nothing more than a bright delirium preceding death, but even if it was, he would not change any of it. Any at all. He might have made some irrelevant response, might have asked her about the afterlife, but she was growing paler, and the hall mistier, and he knew that he did not have much more time left.

"So I'm a phoenix and I'm now immortal, and so is Harry. And there's a potential way to control the mind link. Is there anything else I need to know?" He knew that when he had a moment to think, he would probably panic, but as it was, he was merely eerily calm.

"Only that I love you," she said quietly. "Not romantically, but oh, Sev, I missed you so much!" She straightened. "Tell Harry I love him too, that I wish that I could be there for him. And Sev?"

"Y-yes?" Severus asked, tears now flowing freely down his face, nor did he even notice. Oh, Merlin, she actually cared.

"Remember, Lord Voldemort is not the only problem you're going to have to face. I can't tell you anymore- we're not supposed to interfere- but you've got to be on your guard, and not just in the battle. That said, you've got to get going, and soon." Her face was already growing more translucent, and he could see the brick walls of Hogwarts through her delicate skin. "Give Voldie hell from me and James!" She caught him up in a tight hug, and he could smell the cinnamon and clove perfume she always wore- for some strange reason, she could never stand floral perfume, even waterlily- and all he could think about was her warmth, and her closeness, and those gorgeous green eyes.

Then he opened his eyes on the floor of the actual Great Hall of Hogwarts, his entire body uncomfortably warm from phoenix fire, which was rising around him in sparking tongues of silver flame, bathing his whole body with power.

He got to his feet unsteadily, glancing around him with quick black eyes, but no one was so much as watching where he had fallen. And for good reason, too, he realized as he saw the situation.

He'd never been angrier in his life, not even on that ill-fated day when Harry witnessed his worst memory without permission. The Light fighters, at least those who had survived, and there were many who hadn't, seemed to be battling one another, while Harry lay at the Dark Lord's feet, bleeding from hundreds of wounds, his phoenix fire barely able to keep up with the damage. That was when he noticed something else, something that was truly appalling. The Dark Lord had made the fallen students, Astoria Greengrass, Macmillan, Boot, Corner, Creevy, and Edgecombe, into inferi, and was sending them against their housemates and their kin, their blank eyes misty with magic. Somewhere off to the left, Albus lay, unconscious or possibly dead, his youthful body crumpled against the staff table.

Severus's magic exploded outward in a blaze of silver fire, just as the Dark Lord cast the killing curse- again- on Harry. And he charged straight for the Dark Lord, without even bothering to pick up the spare wand he had been using- indeed, he did not even think of it. "Tom!" he spat, voice vibrating with rage and magic. "Turn and face me!"

Lord Voldemort whirled around, only to recoil with a hiss, red eyes wide with something that might, perhaps, have been fear. Then he raised his wand, and Severus realized with a shock of horror that it was not even his at all, but Dumbledore's. Oh, Merlin. there was more than one way to force a wand to change its allegiance, but the most common of those was simply to kill the previous owner. Did that mean...? "Severussss," Voldemort hissed, sending a cold shiver down Severus's spine. Gods, he hated the way Voldemort liked to say his name, and he knew the bastard knew it, too. "So you think you have a chance against me?"

Severus responded with a nice wandless incendio, which shouldn't have even been possible. But then, literally becoming a human phoenix was probably supposed to be impossible too. Voldemort dodged, a little more fear twisting his inhuman features, but before Severus could even be certain that was what it was, his erstwhile master had regained his composure. "I trusted you, once," he said conversationally. As if that abomination had ever trusted anyone. "You could have been great. You could have been the highest in my inner circle; I might even have made you a lieutenant. Insssstead, you betrayed me."

"I think you betrayed me long before I did you," Severus retorted, flinging several curses in rapid succession, any one of which would have rendered Voldemort insensible with pain and at his mercy. It wasn't just that unforgivables were harder to cast now, with the light magic that bubbled in his veins, either. He wanted the creature to suffer, to suffer for all the children he'd killed, for all the lives he'd ruined, for all the muggles he'd tortured, for all the cruciatuses he'd cast. He wanted, not to kill him, but to annihilate him.

Voldemort's wand-hand twitched. "Why fight me?" he said, instead of making a response to Severus's quiet statement; indeed, there was no way he could truly refute that. "Why throw your life away over nothing?" He swept an arm out, as if showing off the aftermath of the battle like a fine artwork, the wounded and dying on both sides and the inferi rising up to blindly attack those they had defended in life, Miss Chang staggering back from her erstwhile friend in horror, Harry's mute (and, for the moment lifeless) body, the horrified and injured Order members witnessing all of this, and on and on, encapsulating all of the destruction that he had caused. "Thisss is what happenssss to thossse who rissse against me. So why fight? I will allow you to return...make you my lieutenant...you alwayss wanted power, Severussss..."

Severus spat in his face. "I joined you once. Never again," he responded, shooting off a blood-scorching curse. The fact that it was wandless, which should have been impossible, did not even register.

"Why fight, when you have no chance? Now that Potter is dead, I am invinssssible."

Severus's dark eyes gleamed with the fire rising within him, swirling around him. Dimly, he was aware that his feet had left the ground, that he was floating in an aura of his own power. "Despair thy charm," Severus quoted, letting the flame curl in warm tendrils of pure light magic on his palm, pooling in his hand. Behind him, the fire was swelling up like a strange set of wings, arching on either side.

Voldemort looked nonplussed, as well as scared, as did most of the other wizards, considering that none but the muggleborns had even heard of Shakespeare.

"You are remarkable narrow-minded," Severus continued. "Especially for a Slytherin. The prophecy does not say that Potter is the only one with the power to kill you, nor that you are safe if he dies. As a matter of fact, it could be a muggleborn born on the same date, or a child born premature. And considering that Potter is indeed dead at your hand, the prophecy is fulfilled. Thus, there is nothing stopping me from killing you right now. Nothing at all."

"Not when I have taken such precautions as I have," Voldemort hissed, although he looked rather worried now- at least, that was what Severus guessed that expression was, as Voldemort was not human enough to tell without any doubt.

"What precautions would that be?" Severus said, a mocking tone having entered his voice now. "You mean this precaution?" he asked, removing Gaunt's ring, which he had taken to wearing after its decontamination, and throwing it at the monster's feet. "Or this precaution?" he added, as the locket followed the ring. "Tom, your precious little trinkets can't help you now, and even if you _did_ manage to kill me, I don't think it'll stick."

Voldemort backed away, slit-like red eyes narrowing. "Who are you?" he hissed, raising his wand. Severus might have made some snide remark, might have spent more time enumerating the wrongs that the Dark Lord had done to him, and to his Slytherins, and to the wizarding world in general. Instead, he let go of his occlumency shields and a wave of white-hot righteous rage poured over him, kindling the phoenix fire still higher. In an instant, the wand was ripped out of Voldemort's hands. For a moment it hung in the air, revolving slowly, and then it flew into Severus's hands. A spray of silver shot from its tip as it accepted him, and Voldemort, for the first time, seemed truly and abjectly afraid. He turned to run, but Severus cast a _petrificus_ _totalus_ , and the Dark Lord fell, still bound, at his feet.

"You would not _dare_ kill me," Voldemort managed through partially paralyzed lips, though it was more a question than an actual statement, as if he was more attempting to reassure himself.

There was a time for monologuing, a time for trading spells in flamboyant duels. And there was a time for ending it all, for sending Tom Riddle back to the dark forces that had raised him to be the scourge of the wizarding world.

Severus responded with a calm _sectumsempra_ , and the Dark Lord died in silence. And then he became aware that the Great Hall was dead silent, and that all eyes were fixed on him, save for those who were trying to subdue the inferi still mindlessly attacking. Even those, however, were turning to stare as the inferi lost animation, like puppets whose strings had been cut all at once, their puppeteer having died. Not that he cared. His only concern right now was his students. And Harry. Merlin, where was Harry? At that moment, there was a sudden blaze of sapphire fire, and all eyes whipped around. Harry rose to his feet unsteadily, his own sapphire blue fire swirling around him. "Professor? Sirius said..." It was then that the boy caught sight of the body lying in the center of the Great Hall, spider-thin pale limbs splayed limp and lifeless. "Is that...?"

"Yes Harry," replied Severus, lowering Dumbledore's wand, hand shaking. He was so tired, now that the adrenaline of battle had worn off. He had, after all, just died. But then, so had Harry. "He's gone. Permanently."

Harry grinned so widely that Severus was worried he would hurt himself. "It's over. It's finally over. Oh, gods!" And then he was rushing to his friends, inquiring about the wounded, embracing all of them in a soppy Gryffindor dogpile before going over and hugging him. Severus stiffened, frozen- never, in his entire time as a professor had a student dared to touch him, much less hug him. But then, never before had he killed a dark lord or come back from the killing curse, so there wasn't really any precedent for any of this. And so he cautiously returned the embrace.

Then it was Luna Lovegood, fluttering up to him like some large moth to kiss him on the cheek, giggling. "I'm glad he's gone," she whispered, as though telling him some great secret, and then ran off in a flutter of scarves and corks to tend to Ginevra Weasley, who was lying motionless at one corner of the Great Hall. Severus simply stared after her, raising one hand to his cheek.

"H-how can you be so sure he's dead?" asked Minerva then, her voice shaking. "How...?"

"That's what I'd like to know, too," said Flitwick. "What kind of magic was _that_?"

"Phoenix magic," Severus replied. "I...I'll tell you the full story later. Is Dumbledore...?"

"Alive," said Pomona, who had just gone to check.

Severus gave a quiet sigh, glancing out across the hall. Littered with bodies, broken wands, and rubble, and decorated with streaks of blood and pockmarks where spells had been cast and had missed. It was over. It was finally over, and after so many years living in fear of the Dark Lord, after so many years as a spy, he didn't know what to think, except that he was free. And he slumped back against the wall, eyes sliding shut of their own volition. He probably should take a pepper up and tend to the wounded, but he needed to rest. Madame Pomfrey could take care of those worst off, and he could get the others tomorrow. Or she could just put them in medical stasis. It didn't matter. He had all the time in the world, and beyond it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, there is a sequel coming called Phoenix Triumphant, which will be crossposted on Fanfiction.net. If you like faster updates, go to my profile there (Lorde Shadowz). If you like longer updates, you should probably wait for it to be posted here. :) This has been a journey, you guys! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Also, check out my new vignette series Phoenix Files, for a new and richer perspective on the story, from the points of view of the more minor characters!


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